


unhinged

by helladeadinside



Category: BLURRYFACE - Twenty One Pilots (Album), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Death, Depression, Detectives, Homicide, Investigations, M/M, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mentions Of Blurryface, Multiple Personalities, Murder, Mysterious, Mystery, Other, Police, Social Anxiety, Violence, joshler - Freeform, twenty one pilots - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-12-16 10:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11826858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helladeadinside/pseuds/helladeadinside
Summary: Detective Jack Kirkland of Columbus Police Department has been assigned to find the person who murdered a young 17 year old boy named Peter Harris during the early morning hours of October 16th, 2005. Tyler Joseph and Joshua Dun, who strangely enough, cannot recall what they were doing during the time their peer was murdered, are frantic in trying to find answers and keep Jack Kirkland from suspecting them, because they couldn't have done it, right?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Welcome to my story that I made up one night while watching a little too much Criminal Minds. First things first, I wanna say that this story is based off the concept of the Blurryface album, yet with a weird crime twist? (If that makes sense) I also know (and would like everyone to know) NOTHING about this story is true, besides the timeline I lined up to be with their actual ages. Most of it is of my own imagination and I understand its a very unrealistic story, but its all just fun right?!?!? Also this story is not for the faint of heart and will contain very intense topics!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Welcome to my story that I made up one night while watching a little too much Criminal Minds. First things first, I wanna say that this story is based off the concept of the Blurryface album, yet with a weird crime twist? (If that makes sense) I also know (and would like everyone to know) NOTHING about this story is true, besides the timeline I lined up to be with their actual ages. Most of it is of my own imagination and I understand its a very unrealistic story, but its all just fun right?!?!? Also this story is not for the faint of heart and will contain very intense topics!!

**November 8th, 2005**

"Excuse me?" A shaking voice said, a young boy who was was no older than ten years old, to the young woman sitting behind the front desk of Columbus, Ohio's Police Department. She looked up, then down at a little boy who looked shaken like a leaf.

"Yes, Hun?" The woman said, wondering if he was lost or something of the sort. He began to tear up, big blue eyes swimming.

"I-I found someone." He sounded like he was about to bawl his eyes out, so the woman went around the desk and bent down at the little boys level.

"Who? Do you have a mommy or daddy with you?" She asked, her eyes scanning the space behind him to see if anyone could be with the small child.

"A p-person. I th-think I found a dead person." The boy began to hiccup as tears rolled down his cheeks. Missy's face dropped even further. His cheeks were colorless and was everything but unbelievable.

"Oh, my." She frowned. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Max." He replied, playing with the sleeve of his jacket. She went back behind the desk and put a phone up to her ear and dialed the homicide detective's floor.

"Assistant Paula Dubois, how can I help you?" The desk lady answered, the one who directs Lloyd's calls.

"Can I be directed to Captain Lloyd?" Missy asked, feeling a headache from behind her temples. Soon, she heard his voice.

"Captain Gerald Lloyd, what can I do for you?" He asked.

"Hi, uh, Captain Lloyd, this is Missy Altright from the main floor. I have a child here who claims to have found the body of a-a deceased person." She tried to whisper into the microphone, trying not to upset Max even more.

"Dear God. Okay, any parents?"

"I don't think so. His name is Max and he looks maybe ten, and he's alone and scared." She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Alright. Bring him up, would you?"

"No problem."

~

"Hey, Kirkland, meeting room. Now." Captain Lloyd approached Detective Jack Kirkland's desk with a file in his hand, demanding as always.

"Uh, alright." It was kind of strange how quiet it had been lately in the city of Columbus, which was strange due to the high crime rate. Kirkland stood and pulled his tie straight, following Lloyd into the meeting room.

He chose the seat across from Lloyd's, knowing it'd be easier that way.

"What's the urgency?" Kirkland asked, tilting his brow inquisitively. Lloyd sighed, looking concerned.

"We have a dead seventeen year old on our hands." The captain slid the Manila folder across the table to the well known and trusted detective. There were pictures of a boy laying in a large group of vegetation and bushes. He was facing down with his cheek against the dirt, blood splatters on his face. The way the victims eyes bored into the detective made him slightly uncomfortable.

"Cause of death?" Jack asked, clearing his throat and flipping through the folder.

"Multiple stab wounds to the back. Ten, to be exact. The boy's name is Peter Harris. He was seventeen and went to Worthington Christian Academy, went missing about three weeks ago." Lloyd sighed. "The youngins are dying faster than they're able to live nowadays."

"Poor kid." Kirkland rubbed his lower lip with his finger. "Where was he found?"

"Jefferson forest." Kirkland sighed as he looked through the pictures of the kid.

"Who found him?"

"Little boy, Max Edlund. He was playing with some friends at a nearby tree house. They went running through the woods playing when he tripped over Peter's leg. Scared him half to death." Captain Lloyd recounted the person who had found Peter Harris's body.

"I guess I'll check out the crime scene, then, huh?" Kirkland said, snapping the folder closed.

"I really need you to solve this as soon as possible. I know his mom and she's a good lady. Please don't let her down." Kirkland felt the pressure of a new case building. He nodded and turned to start heading to Jefferson forest. Wondering who would have killed such a young kid crossed his mind, but these days, nothing surprised him anymore.

~

 


	2. Chapter 2

**November 8th, 2005**

Eyes flickering open, the ceiling fan spinning above his line of sight was a comforting motion. It's all he ever stared at. The days wasted watching it spin around and around were endless. Sitting up at the waist, Tyler rubbed his eyes of sleep, but not the kind of sleep that left him rested. Sleep never made him less tired, weirdly enough it made him more fatigued. Standing on his feet felt strange. As if he had been running miles all night, his legs were jelly and feet were tingly.

Tyler passed the mirror hanging from the closet door before his legs made him pause. He hadn't looked at his reflection in days, weeks even. His eyes were sunken, lips chapped from endless biting mixed with the dryness of dead winter in Columbus. The hair on his head hadn't been combed in an equally questionable amount of time and he stood with a slight hunch. Tyler didn't know what happened to him, he just stopped caring about what he looked like. Almost as if taking care of himself was pointless.

He left his bedroom and hopped into the shower, leaning against the tiled wall while blazing hot water irritated his skin. His eyes slipped closed, feeling a rush of exhaustion. Feeling woozy, Tyler opened his eyes and turned off the water. The steam was beginning to make him feel suffocated. Throwing a towel on over his waist, he wiped the mirror clean of fog. Tyler's individual ribs stretched out his pale skin, making him run his fingers over the ridges in disgust. He loathed how bone-skinny he was, yet there wasn't anything he could do to change it. Food held no appeal to him anymore, and he knew that wasn't right and could be dangerous, but what could he do? Forcing himself to eat only made him dislike it more. What was he living for?

He hurried to his room, hoping not to run into any of his siblings or parents. Tyler was an early riser compared to his siblings, mostly for the fact that he prefers not to fight over the bathroom. He didn't have the energy for it, let alone the tenacity. After getting dressed in his uniform for school, a pair of khakis and a simple button down, white shirt. He traveled down stairs and brewed a pot of deep, black coffee under the rising sun in the kitchen window. Watching the sky turn a light washed pink color with some clouds in the mix made Tyler feel nostalgic.

As he poured his cup of coffee, the stairway light turned on and the kids came sleepily down the stairs with his parents ready for work in tow.

"Tyler, coffee is not breakfast." The mom said immediately, nodding to his cup of caffeine.

"I already ate." He lied. "I had Eggos."

She sighed and nodded, probably not believing his lie. She poured bowls of cereal for Zack, Madison and Jay.

"Don't forget basketball practice today, Ty. Your uniform is in the dryer." His dad reminded him, making him roll his eyes at the thought of basketball.

"Right, dad." He replied, nodding and taking a long sip of his over sugared coffee. Grabbing his uniform like his father told him to, he was off to school. He liked to walk earlier than most of the other kids in the neighborhood, mostly to avoid them. They liked to pretend they knew him, were friends with him. In reality, none of them knew anything about Tyler. Tyler barely knew himself.

Walking down the sidewalks, dead leaves crunching under his feet, he spotted a head of curly, oak brown hair that he knew better than the back of his hand. Josh stood staring at the sky, his eyes as brown as the coffee Tyler had consumed were watching the sun. He couldn't stop taking in his features. A strong jawline and mysterious outline. He was quiet, had no other friends except for Tyler.

Joshua Dun is Tyler's best friend, the two having an unbreakable bond. Josh was seen as a metal head kid who didn't know what to do with himself. Tyler had heard some pretty crazy sounding rumors about him at school. Some saying he did and sold drugs, which was absolutely not true. Josh was genuinely the nicest kid he's ever met, despite his social issues. Josh found it difficult to talk to new people and even be around them. They made him want to crawl out of his skin, as if it was too small for him. His chest would tighten and all blood flees south of his face, leaving his lips pale and cheeks hollow. Tyler may have been incredibly depressed, but Josh was equally anxious. Together, they were stronger and felt whole.

"Josh." Tyler said to get his attention, feeling a small smile on his face. It was a genuine smile, not one that he gave his parents or his team mates. It was the one he saved especially for Josh. The curly headed drummer boy turned his head, what looked like steam billowed from his mouth as he released a breath he had been holding. He smiled at Tyler, color rising to his cheeks from the cold.

"Hey." He replied, Tyler slowly walking closer. Josh kept eye contact with him, something he's been trying to get better at. Josh had a hard time with eye contact, believing that eyes were the windows to the soul, he didn't want to intrude on people's "windows". His friend Tyler was a good person to start with, despite he didn't like looking into his eyes. They were dark, sad. They didn't gleam and they were usually glazed as if he went to a different universe in his own head. Josh kept the smile, despite looking at Tyler made him feel defeated. His best friend was withering away right in front of him and there was nothing he could do but be there for him. He couldn't make him seek help, couldn't make him eat and definitely couldn't make him sleep.

"What is it?" Tyler asked. "You look upset." Josh shook his head and kept smiling. Realizing the smile may have looked more sad than reassuring, he stopped.

"You just..." He cleared his throat and looked past Tyler's shoulder. "You look tired." Tyler ran his fingers back through his hair, messing it up even more. He sighed and nodded.

"I know. I feel tired, too." Josh nodded with him and turned to stand next to him. They walked to school next to each other, barely saying anything. But that was a sign of good friendship, right? They could walk and not say a single word to each other, but that was just fine. They were okay with that and still felt a love for one another without the use of words.

Once in school, they both wanted to leave. Josh shut down even further due to the hallways being lined with his peers. He couldn't come here without fear of being judged. Josh felt his chest tighten just a tad, making him grab his shirt. Tyler kept up beside him, noting the discomfort in his friend's face. He placed a hand on Josh's shoulder to guide him to their lockers. Their lockers were on the second floor where, thankfully, not a lot of people hang out in the morning. Josh and Tyler's lockers were not next to each other, but across the hallway.

Before they were friends, they would stand against their lockers. Looking at each other and having a silent conversation was all they did for the first two weeks. Then, they sat next to each other in class. Tyler made conversation first, noticing that Josh was shyer than he had originally thought. Eventually, Tyler made the connection that Josh was a very nervous person in general. . He would easily get short of breath and become visibly irritated. Josh would easily become stressed out in small situations, his emotions over-compensating and making him short circuit. Tyler wanted to help him, but anxiety had a funny way of making people feel crazy. Josh got better at suppressing his attacks as he is now a junior in high school, compared to freshman year.

Tyler couldn't help but think about how much Josh has grown since freshman year, mentally and physically. Josh was taller, better built in the arms and chest, and had the warmest smile. Looking at his best friend go through his locker, he felt that the only reason he was still here was for him. What else was Tyler here for? What purpose did he serve?

"Ty?" Josh asked, Tyler realizing he was still staring in the distance. He looked at his best friend.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?" Was that a formal question?

"Honestly?" Tyler rubbed his eyes, that exhaustion kicking in once more and making him dizzy. "No."

"I know." He replied. They had about twenty minutes until class started, so they sat lazily on the floor under Tyler's locker. Josh allowed Tyler to rest his head on his shoulder. It seemed like the kid hadn't slept in weeks.

There were always these moments when they had each other with the barriers down and just simple understanding passing through the both of them. As the bell rang, Tyler groaned quietly. He didn't want to leave Josh and he definitely didn't want to go to math. Tyler stood, pulling his friend with him by the hand, but then yawned obnoxiously.

"Are you sleeping?" Josh asked finally, the question that had been bugging him for a few days. He almost never asked about Tyler's health, because Josh would always receive the same vague answers. His best friend shrugged and went to his class with only a look of "let's talk about this later."

They didn't.

~

The detective entered the trail of the forest, immediately feeling heavier. The day was dreary, not a spot of blue sky anywhere, just storm clouds looming. A boom of thunder exploded in the sky, making Kirkland jump a little. He groaned at his cowardliness, but continued on into the forest that he didn't like. Soon, a tree house came into view.

It had vines, leaves and algae covering certain parts of the wood. A ladder lead up to the dark inside and a rope that Kirkland wouldn't trust a squirrel to use without breaking hung halfway to the ground. Feeling something calling to him from inside the tree house, he reached for the ladder and began to heave himself up it. The smell inside was musty, old.

There was a trunk in the corner, a table with two wooden chairs, and some books so old and stained that they were illegible. Looking through the chest, he found a package of zip-ties. This seemed quite obviously misplaced. How many kids had zip-ties laying around? Jack shook his head and examined them, yet there was nothing worth noting about them other than that they were even here in the first place. After placing the whole thing within an evidence bag, he climbed back down to continue along the trail to see the crime scene.

"Excuse me, Perry?" Kirkland said to the forensics member in charge of evidence. "Have this bag of zip ties checked for DNA." He tossed the bag to the person who caught it and nodded in return.

"What do you have to tell me?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Something about this doesn't make sense. There's no defense wounds. If someone was after him, wouldn't there be something on his body to prove it?" Perry said, shaking her head. "I'm not sure, something about this case isn't right."

"We found Peter's car down the parking lot outside the entrance of the forest. He drove himself here, considering we found the keys in his pocket." Another forensics member announced. Kirkland scrunched his brow in confusion.

"Well, the kid didn't stab himself." Kirkland replied. "So, maybe someone he knew lured him here and took him out?"

"Could be. We have no murder weapon, so it's probably with the murderer. " Perry said in return, staring at the body with questions in her eyes. "We do have this, though." She walked over to the legs end of the boy and lifted his pant led. There was a holder for a blade around his ankle, like he came here armed and ready for something.

"Killed by his own blade?" Thunder cracked again, sending waves of sound through the trees and shaking the leaves. Slowly, rain began to filter through the over brush, dripping on Jack's suit and soaking his bushy, dirty blond hair. He pushed it back with his fingers. Perry made a face at the rain soaking her long blonde locks and pulled her hood over her head.

"It's possible, I could infer by measuring the deepness and diameter of the stab wounds and comparing it to the knife holster, but there's no way of knowing inconclusively without the actual weapon itself." She explained, the detective nodding along. Perry was an ingenious woman, someone who did her profession favors.

"You do that and get back to me?" Kirkland asked. The forensics leader nodded.

"Of course, Jack." She smiled at him, making him nod in return.

This sure was a strange case, already. Jack was inside his head on the way back, going over theories. He couldn't help but smirk a little. Sure, it was sad that this kid was dead.

But he found a certain degree of excitement in figuring out the unknown.

~


	3. Chapter 3

**Two Weeks before October 16th**

Tyler sat on a swing, slowly kicking his legs while the setting sun lit up the playground. It was rusty, old enough for vines to be taking over. Josh sat next to him, spinning around in circles while staring at the sky.

"Do you ever feel like you're being watched?" Tyler muttered to his best friend, earning his stare in return. He sighed.

"Well, in general, yes." He replied, smirking a little at the joke made towards his own mental state. The way Josh's head was angled, the sun made his eyes glow just right, looking like copper with green undertones.

"Not what I mean. I just feel like someone follows me sometimes. Maybe I'm just..." Tyler stopped, glancing up at Josh and smiling at the beauty of his best friend. "Crazy."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Josh replied. "You know we're all crazy to a certain degree. No one's perfect."

Tyler found it in him to smirk, almost finding Josh's words comedic. "Says you."

"Yeah, says me." Josh reached over and messed up Tyler's hair with a laugh. It was a sound that he would never get tired of. Just the way his teeth peeked out from behind his pink lips and how his eyes hid behind his lids made Tyler incredibly happy and warm inside. There was only ever one and only time he could feel this light and airy, and it was with Josh.

Tyler began to swing until he had enough momentum to fly off and land feet first in the grass. Josh followed suit. They began walking aimlessly, the sound of Tyler humming made drummer boy Josh relaxed, until he realized that it was going to be short lived.

"Tyler, are you going to miss me? When you go off to college and become successful, would you remember me?" Josh asked out of the blue, making Tyler stop in his tracks. He spun to look at Josh, hearing the question at hand.

"Is that even a question?" Tyler asked, staring into Josh's eyes that held a depression that his face didn't match. He tried to keep smiling, to keep that harmless exterior when his insides were a slow-burning city going through a drought. Tyler knew that Josh wasn't as okay as he made out to be. He knew that Josh tried to be the more sensible of the two, for Tyler's sake, but they both knew that his confidence was malleable.

"If I didn't have to leave, you know I wouldn't." Tyler said, reaching up to place a curl away from Josh's eyes.

"It's not even what you want." Josh whispered, that exterior cracking. Tears began to prick the backs of his eyes and he hated himself for it. He didn't want to think that he was guilt tripping Tyler, but what else could he do? He was genuinely scared and upset.

What would he do without his best and only friend? Who would he have to go on late night bike rides when anxiety got to him the the dark depths of his room? Who would let him copy their homework when he fell asleep for 12 hours the night before? Who would help him stay calm in big crowds of people? Who would start conversation between them and a person walking by so they could pet their dog?

"It's not what I want, but it's the only way I'll be able to make a living. You're smart Josh, and you're good at a lot of things. Without me here to hold you down-"

"Stop." He said, his face a still as stone. He was no longer smiling.

"What?" Tyler asked, scrunching his eyebrows.

"Don't talk like that. You know I have nothing to look forward to without you." Josh's voice got even quieter as tears took over his vision. Eyes dropping to the ground, he felt them spill onto his cheeks. Embarrassed of himself and his inability to control his emotions, he swiped away the drops on his cheek.

"Josh..." Tyler began. He reached forward for his best friend's upper arms to hold onto. "You deserve other friends. You can make other friends, I know you can do it."

Josh looked up, his eyes red rimmed and swollen from crying. Tyler hated when he cried, but at the same time, it made his heart swell four sizes. He thought Josh was absolutely the epitome of endearing when he cried. There was just something about knowing that Tyler held such an importance on Josh's metaphorical shelf that made him love the boy even more. The vulnerability that Josh showed to Tyler made him love Josh to his bones.

"I don't want you to leave." Josh said as they started walking again. Tyler turned and pulled Josh into a tight hug, his arms around his back, one hand in his hair. Josh took this chance to wrap his arms around his best friend, slightly trembling. He didn't feel physically cold, but Tyler brought a warmth to him that wasn't explainable.

Tyler didn't say anything else, knowing full well that there was nothing he could really say to make this better. They pulled apart, Tyler reaching to wipe a tear from Josh's face.

As they started to walk out of the park, Tyler saw a familiar figure across the street. Squinting to see the person better, he realized with a shock that it was Peter Harris from school. Tyler paused, grabbing Josh's wrist.

"Is that...Peter Harris?" Josh muttered, focusing on him as well.

"Yeah." Peter looked Tyler right in the eye and smiled. He grew slightly anxious at the grin the boy offered, feeling vulnerable within his sight.

He didn't know Peter Harris very well, but he seemed to be everywhere.

"You don't think that he's stalking us, do you? Am I just...?" Tyler asked, shaking his head and wiping his eyes.

"Again, Crazy?" Josh offered. Tyler smiled at his friend, nodding.

"Yeah."

Josh hummed. "I don't know."

Tyler nodded, turning his back towards Peter. He decided to ignore him, hoping it was only attention he was seeking.

~

Every time Tyler got any alone time whatsoever, all he did was overthink himself to the point of suffocation. He was sitting outside the school, a basketball under his rear and the sun in his eyes. He meant to be taking shots at the basket, but just really didn't feel it in him today. After seeing Peter Harris around so much, the guy was in Tyler's mind constantly. Was he around right now?

Inspecting the area, it seemed to be clear. Tyler didn't trust him as far as he could throw him. There was just something that felt off about Peter. He seemed to be everywhere when Tyler least expects it. Josh even got him as a partner on an economics project, which the drummer found highly unacceptable. He even begged the teacher to let him do the project alone, but to no avail. Tyler saw that coming a mile away.

Tyler leaned his head against the brick school, closing his eyes. It wasn't raining for once this week, which made things cold instead of muggy now that it was October. As the wind blew through the browning leaves, Tyler felt the presence of someone nearby.

"Tyler." The voice was not one he liked to hear, but he knew exactly who it was. His eyes opened, wide, making him fall off his basketball onto the concrete.

"P-Peter?!" He asked, staring up at the boy standing above him. His eyes were, strangely, the most cerulean and pure blue he had ever seen. Despite their beautiful color, they stared at Tyler in the most curious and off-putting way. It was like he was watching something interesting. Tyler first noticed Peter because of his eyes and how calculating they seemed to be at all times. He was very articulate with words, which made him borderline manipulative. Instead of speaking, Peter sat down on the other side of the basketball. "What're you doing here?"

"I want to talk to you. Is that so weird? We are on the same basketball team after all." He tilted his head to the basketball between them. Tyler swallowed, his mouth not working quite at that moment.

"Well, you don't really talk to me all that often. You mostly just stare at me, which has got to stop, by the way." Tyler told him exactly what he was thinking, which he didn't do normally. Peter was a guy he tried to avoid. The boy laughed, smiling largely at the tenacity in his favorite person's voice.

"Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?" Peter asked, his voice dragging in the wind with the leaves. Scoffing quietly, Tyler nodded.

"You do, actually." Tyler replied. "How else am I supposed to feel when I see you watching Josh and I at the park, or through the window of the diner we go to? Do you know where I live, too?"

Peter clicked his tongue.

"How do you know I'm watching you? I didn't realize you were so self obsessed." Peter continued to egg on Tyler, which was only making him more weary of the conversation.

"If you get anywhere near Josh-"

"He's my economics partner, didn't he tell you?" Peter talked over Tyler trying to threaten him. If he touched Josh in any way or hurt him, Tyler would return the favor graciously.

"What do you want from us?" Tyler asked, finally asking what had been bothering him.

"Attention, of course." Peter smiled at Tyler in a way that made him eager for this encounter to be over. "And for you to go to my party on October 15th."

At this, Tyler actually chuckled to himself. "No, probably not."

"Oh, you'll be going. Because I'm going to convince Josh to go, and if I do that, there will be a 99% chance that you'll go too. And do you know why?" Peter said, turning his head close enough to Tyler that he could feel his breath. "Because you don't trust me. And, you shouldn't."

He reached over and ran his finger down Tyler's cheek, making him jump away in fear.

"See you later, pal." Peter stood up and left without another word. Releasing a breath he didn't realize that he was holding, Tyler stood up and shivered at thinking about the contact he just had with someone who was possibly stalking him or Josh.

He felt no more desire to throw baskets today.

~

 


	4. Chapter 4

  
**November 8th, 2005**

Detective Jack Kirkland stood on the outside of a white, wooden door. He knew he had to knock on it and be thrown into a conversation with someone who was grieving awfully for the death of their seventeen year old son. There was never anything correct to say to the families. They were stuck in a rut that Jack himself had been in before. It wasn't a rut he liked. He rang the doorbell, waiting for the answer of someone. Soon, the doorknob turned and the door opened a crack. A lady stuck her head out, her skin pale and her eyes red-rimmed from tears.

"Mrs. Harris?" Jack asked, tilting his head.

"Yes?" She replied, her voice very low in volume and raspy sounding.He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out his identification and badge.

"My name is Detective Jack Kirkland from Columbus PD. I've been assigned your son's case." He cleared his throat, hoping to try and become less awkward.

"Oh." She said. She opened the door wider to let him in, making him feel even worse for being here. It was difficult, but necessary part of the job.

"Would you like some tea or coffee, Mr. Kirkland?" The mother who had just lost her son seemed tired beyond comprehension. She probably hasn't slept since her child went missing.

"No, I'm fine." He claimed, nodding. She nodded as well.

"Please, sit." She cleared her throat as if she was about to burst out crying at any moment. Kirkland chose a chair across from Mrs. Harris, not saying much for a moment.

"How are you doing, Mrs. Harris?" He asked, hoping she wouldn't yell at that question like most grieving mothers.

"I'm trying to adjust.... I had suspected something happened when he didn't come home." She sighed, wiping her eyes. "He was such a good boy, you know? Always in at curfew, never anything lower than a B in his classes. I just don't understand who could have done this to my poor Peter." She began to sob quietly, her face becoming stained with tears. Kirkland reached for a tissue from the box conveniently placed on the table between them. Nodding thankfully at him, she wiped her face and nose.

"So, what exactly happened when Peter went missing?" Kirkland asked, taking out a tape recorder. He nodded silently at it, asking if he was okay to record what she said. She nodded, giving him permission.

"I came home on October 16th, Sunday afternoon from a business conference in Boston. I left a clean house on Friday night and came back to a wrecked one. There was cups, alcohol, streamers, passed out kids. It looked like some kind of party happened while I was gone. Assuming it was definitely Peter, I searched the house for him and didn't find him anywhere. Even after I cleaned everything up, he still didn't come home." She stopped to take a breath. "And now this."

Kirkland nodded.

"How soon after did you file a missing person's report?"

"A day." Her eyes welled up again.

"Where is Peter's father, if you don't mind me asking?" Jack asked, biting his lip.

"He left when Peter was just a baby. My son was all I really had...." She began to cry again. Jack nodded, allowing her time.

"I'm very sorry for your loss. I promise I will try my best to find out who did this to your son, but I need names. Anyone you can think of that was at or could have been at the party? Some of Peter's friends, anyone he knows?" Kirkland asked, feeling awful for even bringing it up.

"Oh, um, yeah I can do that. He had a couple of friends come around a few times. I made sure to always get their names in the house." She looked around for a pen and piece of paper, but Jack only stopped her to give her his notebook and pen. After scribbling down about five names, she handed it back to him.

"Thank you very much, if I have anymore questions I will give you a call." Jack told her. She nodded, standing up to show him out.

He stood up and grabbed his tape recorder and exited the Harris house. He felt awful for intruding on the lady who was grieving. Thanks to her, he had an idea of what Peter was doing when he went missing.

As Jack was walking back from the house when he got a call from Perry in forensics. She told him that the time of death of Peter can be traced back to October 16, probably early in the morning, maybe even before daybreak. So, someone lured him away from his own party and chased him into the woods? No, Jack didn't like how that theory sounded. He asked Perry about the stab wounds and if she was able to determine the size of the knife used. She explained it seemed like a hunting knife that was about six inches long, and would have comfortably fit in the holster on Peter's leg.

"Someone took his own knife from him and stabbed him, but with the way the body was laying..."

"Maybe it was self defense in some way?" Perry added over the phone. Jack shook his head while leaning against his passenger side door and smoking a cigarette.

"If it was self defense, why would they continue to attack him while he was running? Peter gave up and he was ready to go home alive. Why keep instigating unless Peter did something to this person that they weren't willing to let go?" It had been a while since he'd had such a mysterious case, but Jack felt like he might be getting somewhere, yet he was still so far from the truth. "Did you run those zip-ties for DNA?"

"Yes, sir. Peter Harris all over those. Where did you say you found those?" Perry asked inquisitively.

"The tree house along the pathway to where Peter was found." Jack said, licking his lower lip while in deep thought.

"Something could have gone wrong there. What could Peter have possibly have done with a pack of zip-ties?" She wondered aloud, asking the same question Kirkland thought about.

"Thank you, Perry. I need to go." Kirkland hung up and took a long drag from his cancer stick, releasing the toxins into the air in front of him. Peter had a bag of zip-ties, but why? That seemed strange to have, especially at a tree house in the middle of the woods, during your own party at the early hours of the morning.

Reading the names of the kids that Mrs. Harris had given him, he knew that his best bet is to figure out what happened at that party the night of October 15th.

~

The buzzer outside of the main entrance to Worthington Christian Academy sounded within the office. A woman's voice sounded over the speaker, grabbing Kirkland's attention. He cleared his throat and showed the camera his badge and I.D. The secretary buzzed the door open, allowing Kirkland to enter the building. Kids in uniforms lined the halls, his presence catching most of their eyes. He walked past all of them, feeling the center of attention. The only one's who weren't looking at him were two boys who seemed to be having a hushed argument, but stopped as Kirkland walked past. They stared at him with wide eyes, quieting as Jack stared at the two of them.

He entered the office to the right and shut the door behind him, relieving him slightly. The secretary that had buzzed the detective in was seated behind a desk, typing away at something on her computer. "Excuse me?" Jack said to her, stepping up to the desk. She glanced up and smiled slightly.

"Hello. Columbus PD?" She asked, her eyes searching Kirkland's appearance up and down. Coughing slightly, he nodded.

"Yeah. I'm here about Peter Harris. Is the principal in?" The secretary hummed in response.

"I believe so. Let me check." She stood up and headed towards the back of the office. Knocking on wooden door and entering, some words were exchanged and more nodding. She waved the detective forward. As Jack entered the office, he saw an older man with graying hair and bifocals wearing a suit. As the door shut behind the detective, he shook hands with the principal.

"Hello, detective, my name is Thomas Wilson. I run the school here." The old man nodded to Kirkland, raising his hand to one of the seats on the other side of the desk.

"Jack Kirkland of Columbus Police Department. Nice to meet you, sir." He lowered into the chair behind him and folded his leg over his other. He pulled out his voice recorder. "Do you mind if I record this conversation? It's just to help me remember everything."

"Yeah, sure. Not a problem." The principal reassured. After clicking the on button, he set it on the desk between the both of them.

"So, I know the reason I'm here is not a good one. I'm sure you heard about Peter Harris." Kirkland told the man, who was nodding before he was even done speaking.

"Of course, I knew Peter." Mr. Wilson nodded while speaking, already looking grim from the news of the kid's death. "It's even worse knowing he passed painfully and violently, may his soul rest in Heaven. He's in the Lord's hands, now." Kirkland didn't really follow religion all that much, but he knew it to be a way for people to accept the inevitable things in life as "God's plan" or something a long those lines. It's an illusion and people use it as a veil to hide behind. But of course, he would never say something like that here.

"So, what can you tell me about Peter? I've heard his mother's side of him, but what's your version?" Jack had a way about him, an idea about people that was different. He knew every person had different personality traits, which ones they wanted their family to see, or their authorities, friends. They're not per say different personalities, but like different colors on a Rubix cube. Not the same, but serve the same purpose on the same platform.

"He was a good kid at heart, despite the spike drop in his grades. Nothing really out of the ordinary about him, just seemed to grow unmotivated." Mr. Wilson said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. Kirkland nodded.

"Did you ever talk to him personally?"

"Yeah, sometimes. He doesn't like the guidance counselor here, so he'd come into my office sometimes and rant about whatever was bothering him. He was a fiery one sometimes, but also had a strange way with words. Whatever he would say, you couldn't help but think about it for the rest of the day." The principal admitted, interesting Kirkland.

"Would you say he was... manipulative?" The detective took a long shot at a kid he's heard mostly nothing bad about. The only thing that bothered him about the kid was the empty knife holster that was found on his leg.

"I mean..." Mr. Wilson began thinking back to all the times Peter spoke to him and the multitude of emotions he would display. "Maybe a little bit. He was cunning, that's for sure." Jack reached into his pocket for the paper that had the names of the kids Mrs. Harris recalled.

"Do any of these names ring a bell?" Kirkland handed him the paper and watched him read them.

"These two," he circled them with his own pen. "Were his best friends. He actually complained about them all the time, but he was always with them." The man hummed again, trying to think if the other names seemed relevant. "In terms of Peter, those are the only names I correlate with him." The detective nodded, still wanting to speak to the rest of these kids, but the two he circled would probably help a lot. Something Jack learned with teens was they were impressionable, dramatic, loyal to their best friends, moody, and were total liars. Jack knew he had to be smooth with the kids. Sometimes they notice things that adults don't.

"Can I talk to any of these kids?" Kirkland asked, hoping the principal would make this easy. The old man hummed while staring at the detective across the way, which wasn't a very good sign.

"I'm not sure. Don't their parents need to be around?"

"No, I'm not arresting anyone. I just want to ask a couple of questions. You want this solved, right?" Jack pointed out, something he's done many times. Mr. Wilson sighed.

"Fine, come back tomorrow around ten in the morning. I'll make passes for these kids and you can ask your couple of questions in one of our conference rooms." The principal folded, giving Kirkland a firm feeling in his chest. He loved when investigations ran smoothly.

"Great. Thank you for your patience, I want to wrap this up as quick as you want me out of here." Jack laughed cautiously, shaking the principals hand once more before leaving the office. After waving goodbye to the secretary, he opened the door to the hallway.

It had been about twenty years or so since he'd been in a high school. Everything looked about the same, besides this being a private school and was probably nicer than the public school Jack was forced to attend. High school wasn't a part of his greatest moments.

Everyone said that you'd miss high school once it was over, but Jack never missed a single part about it.

~


	5. Chapter 5

November 9th, 2005

Basically ransacking his locker for the math book he needed for next period, Tyler turned his stuff upside down. He was stressed, anxious. He'd never been so uneasy before, but maybe it was the heavy feeling in the air. Ever since it spread the school that Peter was dead, no one seemed to be talking like usual. It was too quiet. 

It was so silent that the sound of a singular pair of footsteps across the tile was amplified. He scratched the back of his neck and glanced up. His eyes settled on Josh at his own locker across the hallway. Tyler continued searching for his text book when Josh approached the locker.

"What're you looking for?" His best friend asked.

"Math book." Tyler only replied with, finally spotting it among pieces of crumpled paper. Josh didn't say anything as Tyler slowly shut his locker, then leaned against it.

"Did you hear?" Josh asked, not looking up at Tyler in the eyes, stuck on he ground due to fear.

"About?" Tyler played, but knew exactly what his friend was asking about.

"P-Peter." Josh stumbled on the name, whispering it as if he was some mysterious entity that shouldn't be spoken of.

"Oh." Tyler said numbly. "Right."

"Tyler... I know we've been avoiding it, but..." Josh began. "He went missing the night of the party." 

Tyler shrugged, trying not to show much emotion or the amount of fear he initially felt.

"So?"

"So, what if-"

"What if we drank too much and walked home together without associating with Peter." Tyler responded quietly. "You don't need to assume the worst, although I know it's a favorite hobby of yours." 

Josh couldn't believe what Tyler was saying. He was being bratty, and borderline insulting. His friend gulped on air, feeling his chest ache slightly. Tyler must have noticed the hurt in Josh's eyes.

"Hey, w-wait, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." Tyler tried to amend, feeling immediately guilty for hurting Josh's feelings. He hated that he did that and he didn't know why he did it. It just... Came out. 

"It's okay... I know I worry too much." Josh said, looking down again, feeling stupid for being so sensitive. It was something that Tyler and Josh had fought about before. Tyler gets snippy when he's stressed while Josh is anxious out the wahzoo.

"I shouldn't have snapped like that." Tyler tried to amend. Josh just nodded so he could let the conversation drop.

"Hey, Tyler." A kid, Derek, greeted him with a smile.

"What's up?" Tyler asked, knowing that Derek wouldn't be talking to him unless something was going on. Derek was the gossip of the school, making him either really annoying or really helpful.

"I'm guessing you heard about Peter..." Derek said, looking the most serious Tyler had ever seen him. "There's a detective in the school." Tyler could basically feel Josh go rigid next to him. It made Tyler uneasy, knowing there was a detective so close to them. Now, there was a reason to worry.

"Seriously?" He wondered, Derek nodding enthusiastically. 

"I saw him go into the conference room by the office. I think he's going to be questioning some people he was involved with." He claimed, looking grave. Glancing back at his friend, who was sheet white, he gulped around the lump in his throat.

"Well, that's interesting, I guess." Tyler muttered to himself, looking down at his feet.

"Yeah. I wonder if anyone here actually did something to Peter..." Derek seemed hesitant, considering the possibility that someone in the school really disliked him enough to kill him in cold blood.

"Maybe it was an accident?" Tyler offered, hoping to lighten the situation slightly. 

"He died from literally being stabbed in the back, man. Whatever happened, it wasn't an accident. Whoever killed him had meant to." Derek sighed and waved goodbye to the duo. Josh hadn't said a single word the whole time, which wasn't too unusual. He had a habit of shutting down around people he didn't know. Once Derek was a safe distance away. Josh nearly exploded.

"Dude." Josh hissed, grabbing Tyler's wrist gently.

"I know." Tyler hissed in return, using his other hand to rub circles on the bridge of his nose.

"What if he ends up wanting to talk to us? You know I need to tell the truth, right?" Josh whispered as the two began to walk side by side to their next classes. Tyler felt a spike of ice cold fear in his stomach and he wasn't sure why. It was almost as if he felt guilty for something, despite knowing he most likely didn't do anything. He felt every need to protect Josh and him from getting involved with the police for something that may not even have anything to do with them. 

"Can we talk about this later?" Tyler asked, feeling suffocated from worry. "Let's just figure this out, okay? I promise we'll actually talk about it."

Josh sighed, knowing later was never going to come.

"I promise." Tyler reiterated obviously. Josh only nodded, a heavy weight on his shoulders. Why was Tyler so quick to avoid things? His best friend bit his lip and avoided looking at Tyler.

Stopping as the familiar hands grasped his one with a couple of wristbands, Josh took in a quick breath.

"Josh, look at me." The drummer gulped and looked up at Tyler who was staring at him with a pleading expression. "I'm so sorry avoiding you all of the time. You're my best friend but sometimes I can't even coagulate a thought. Please don't mistake it for not caring because I care about you more than I care about myself." Tyler said quietly while Josh stared into his deep, bottomless eyes.

"Th-that's not healthy." Josh replied unsurely. Tyler only smiled at him, silently enjoying the way his lashes sloped up and the crinkles on his lids. The glow of pink on his cheeks were a great addition, he decided. It had been a while since Tyler had admired Josh. "Why do you do that?"

Josh meant he didn't understand why his best friend analyzed every crevice of his face. 

"I just like to. It's visually pleasing." Tyler admitted, hoping Josh would accept it as a simple compliment.

"Yeah, sure. Nice try." Josh laughed nervously, the redness of his face growing ever so slightly. 

"I mean it." The other boy insisted, as they walked down the stairs, butterflies going wild in his chest. "Why would I lie?"

"You're just trying to be nice after being a loser earlier." Josh replied, referring to when Tyler was irritated. He sighed, wanting Josh to just forget it all.

"I apologized, what more do you want?" Tyler asked dramatically.

"I want you to let me sleep over this coming weekend. Friday night." Josh countered with, making his basket balling best friend chuckle immediately. The way that he glanced up at Tyler through the curls of brown hanging over his forehead made it extremely hard to say no.

"My house, huh?" He reiterated, biting his lip in thought. "I'll run it by my mom tonight."  
Josh smiled uncontrollably and nodded proudly, making Tyler's heart skip a beat. Josh radiated beauty when he smiled with ease. It didn't happen often, him mostly being uncomfortable in social situations. Tyler was good at bringing out his personality.

"Do you have basketball practice tonight?" Josh asked, as they paused in front of his journalism class. He nodded in response.

"I do, yeah. And I kinda do want you there, in case you were asking." Tyler added, smiling like a fool at his best friend.

"Oh, no I'm busy." Josh said, his face dropping and becoming completely believable. "Plans with my other best friend, actually." Tyler felt betrayed, until he caught the comedic gleam in Josh's eye.

"Tell him I said good luck with handling you." He said, waving him off. Josh laughed again and smacked his arm as he walked down the hall to his dreaded Geometry class.  
~

Josh sat on the bleacher seats with his baseball cap holding back his hair on his head and watching Tyler as he made another basket. He smiled and clapped for him, making Tyler look at him from across the court. He smiled back at his best friend, feeling warm that Josh was cheering him on. He waved to him, still grinning like an idiot. 

"Hey there." A voice greeted, making Josh jump. There was a man, standing next to the bleachers with his hands in his leather jacket. Looking at the man up and down really quick, Josh stuttered a bit of nonsense until he just snapped his mouth shut.

"Uh, hello?" Josh replied confusingly, feeling his hands grow clammy.

"What's your name, young man?" He asked as he stepped up two steps, now about eye level with Josh.

"Josh." He muttered, looking back at Tyler who was animatedly yelling something to his team mates on the court. 

"Yeah?" He said, eventually taking a seat next to the curly headed boy. Moving over more, trying to put space between him and the other man. "My name is Jack. Jack Kirkland. I'm a detective for Columbus Police Department."

Josh's head snapped over to look at the source of the voice. He was the detective?!

"O-oh!" Josh was surprised, dumbfounded and completely scared out of his mind.

"Did you know Peter Harris?" Was the next thing he asked. Josh gulped, his body trembling slightly.

"I-um we did a couple of projects together, but nothing more." He replied carefully, watching Tyler make a basket and smile gleefully as his team mates applauded him. It made his heart hurt slightly.

"Do you know the basketball team well?" He asked, nodding to the boys running on the court.

"No, just him." He pointed his head to Tyler, but immediately regretting doing so. Why did he have to point him out?

"Ah. So, you really don't know anything about Peter?"

"I'm sorry I can't be of help." Josh shook his head, feeling the need to get up and move around. His skin felt too crawly to sit still.

"We're you invited to Peter's party the Saturday before he went missing?" Kirkland asked the kid who was absolutely shaken. 

"Yeah, but I didn't go. Parties aren't my thing." Josh replied straightly, keeping his voice in check and trying to look at Tyler as a distraction.

"I get you." He replied steadily, confirming that he liked this kid, but felt like he was holding something back. "I was quiet too, you know?" 

Josh only nodded at the detective, not knowing what else to say. The man produced a card from his pocket.

"Call me if you remember anything else." The man then preceded to stand up and make his way out through the side door to the soccer field. Josh just stared after him, playing with the card in his hand. Sighing, he shoved the card in his pocket and continued to watch Tyler's practice, but focusing was difficult. With everything going on, Josh's head was basically spinning. Someone was dead and they have know idea who did it or why. Some signs may point to the duo, but how? What happened on October 16? 

"Josh!" A voice yelled, making him snap back into reality. It was Tyler, standing next to him with a towel around his neck and his water bottle in his hand. "Don't make me spray you with water. Wake up!" He said, waving his hand in his face. Josh smacked it out of the way and tried to laugh it off, but it was difficult.

"Over already?" He asked, somewhat relieved. Don't get him wrong, he didn't mind being there to support his friend, but the basketball team wasn't his favorite of people to be around. He could think of much better things to be doing with his time.

"Yeah, well after the whole thing with Peter, they decided to shorten it for the rest of the week. Come on, I have to go change and then we can go to the record store before they close." Tyler replied quickly, making Josh feel jumbled. He thought about the record store and the drum sets that were set up there. He hadn't played in about a week and he felt the stress from withdrawals. Following Tyler with hesitations running through his head, he tried to think if maybe he should go home first. He remembered when he saw his parents last night. They had argued until the moon came up.

"Yeah, sure." Josh agreed, putting his parents far back in his head. It wasn't like he was the stereotypical teenager that hated their parents, he actually loved them very much. But it seemed all they did lately was clash and it was tiring. They wanted Josh to pick a stable career and eventually get married and have 2.5 kids with a mortgage and his own white picket fence. As nice as that sounded, he didn't want it so soon. He wanted to travel, to live life to its fullest and not settle for the normal. Of course, that was completely illogical and Josh envied anyone who was able to do so. 

After making his way to the hallway outside the locker room, he leaned against the wall with one side of his headphones over his ear, nodding his head to some Metallica. He jumped slightly when Will Gunther pushed through the locker room door with his gym bag swinging at his side. Josh glanced up at Will through his lashes, noticing that he paused in the hallway to look at the drummer boy. Nothing was said, but there was a quiet sigh from Will's chest that bounced off of the walls as he began to walk down the hallway past Josh.

Will Gunther was Peter Harris's best friend. They were always together, not as often as Tyler and Josh and not as infamous, but they were up there. Will was the Josh of their friendship. He was always the quiet one that allowed Peter to say and do as he pleased. Peter seemed to sometimes control what Will did or say, but it didn't bother him. Without Peter, Will looked like a puppy who lost it's owner. Josh actually felt bad for him, despite knowing that Peter was a little slimy.

Tyler was next out of the locker room, somewhat excited to go to the record store. Josh watched as his best friend pulled him eagerly out of the school, towards "Spinz Records" that was only about a ten minute walk from the school. They talked about their favorite artists as of late. Josh was all about Green Day's album Dookie while Tyler was still obsessed with the Beatle's radio hits.

"You should really try Green Day, they're really good. Even though I know the angst punk music isn't your thing." Josh told him, kicking a rock down the sidewalk as cars passed him on the road. The rock rolled to the spot in front of Tyler's feet. He kicked it in return. 

"Maybe I'll give it a try. You like it, right? I need to expand my musical horizons if we're gonna be a band." Tyler replied, chuckling at his words.

"You still want to do that?" Josh asked immediately, pausing on the sidewalk as he was surprised by his words. He had thought that that pipe dream had died a long time ago. Josh hadn't taken his best friend seriously the night they laid atop of the parking garage and talked until the sky began to lighten with streaks of beautiful pink and purple. 

Tyler stopped ahead of his best friend, looking back at him with his hands resting in his jacket pockets. He nodded with a small grin on his face and an equal sized gleam in his eye.

"Yeah. We'll take the world by storm and everyone is gonna see what can come of out little Columbus, Ohio." Josh felt the sincerity in his words and was damn near ready to throw himself into the plan, but stopped.

"But there's only two of us." The drummer boy pointed out, frowning. "Bands usually have more than that."

Tyler hummed. "Yeah, but I'm not sure if I can trust anyone else. You know that."

Josh nodded immediately, recalling every night that Tyler got in his head by himself about all of the people at school that acted like they liked him. He remembered the time that they tried extra hard to be nice to him, only for Tyler to catch them talking about how weird he really was. They even equated him to the "school shooter" stereotype, saying that one day he would snap and kill everyone in our grade. He was hurt by that, this was when he genuinely thought that he was making friends.

In reality, none of them knew him or cared about him. None of them were with him when he had his breakdowns and questioned why he was still alive in this dark and unkind world. 

"I don't know if we can do it." Josh admitted, doubting their talents and drive. They say now that they'll be successful, but who knows what would actually happen? Would they even get their feet off the ground? Would anyone even like them?

"But we can try." Tyler countered with a smirk on his face. Josh felt a warmth in his chest and chills up his arms.

"O-okay." Josh stuttered, shocked by how much Tyler wanted this.

"I'll get better at music. You'll see, I swear." Tyler added, turning back around to continue to Spinz. Josh watched the way he walked, the sureness in his voice was tangible and his shoulders were set. 

Josh had never heard him so serious about something he wanted to do.


	6. Chapter 6

November 9th, 2005

Jack Kirkland bit the end of his pen in desperate need of thinking. Each of these kids had different perspectives of Peter. The detective had a nagging feeling that there was more than surface level to Peter Harris. He was more than a basketball player, or a student or a friend. He felt like it was sitting, screaming right in front of his face, yet he was too blind to look at it.

"Mr. Kirkland?" The principal asked from the doorway. "Are you ready for the third kid?"

He nodded, pulling himself from the depths of his mind. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

William Gunther was one of Peters closest friends. He had mediocre grades and seemed to be seen around Peter quiet often when he was alive. Soon enough, a boy with a buzz cut and a grim line where his mouth was stepped in. He stared at the detective for a moment before Jack stood.

"Hello, I'm Detective Jack Kirkland. I'm sure you know what I'm investigating." He said, hoping to not be too blunt about the issue at hand. 

"You mean Peter being killed?" William countered with, not missing a beat. Jack blinked and nodded, already feeling like this kid wasn't going to be pleasant. He kept reminding himself that the kid was grieving.

"Yes, he was your friend, right?" William ground his jaw, a vein popping in his forehead. Jack clicked his pen, hoping to gain some kind of information to help further along the case. 

"He was, kind of." William replied, licking his lower lip and staring at the table and not the face in front of him. The hesitation in his voice and facial expression told Jack that despite them being friends, they had their rough spots.

"Sorry, may I record this? I don't want to forget anything important." Jack asked, pulling out his tape recorder. The student nodded, thus allowed him to hit the record button and place it flat on the conference table.

"How long did you know him for?" Jack asked.

"Four years." William admitted quietly. He kept his eyes low and away from the detective's. The way the boy sat was slouched and presumably uneasy, which Jack didn't doubt was from the topic of his murdered friend. 

"Were you guys close?" The detective wondered aloud after scribbling the amount of years known on Williams specified page.

"Of course. There wasn't anything hidden between us, his home was my home and mine his." He replied with a rasp in his throat. It seemed the teen couldn't sit still, biting his lower lip constantly and readjusting his sitting position. 

"So, you could tell me anything about him?" Jack added, tilting his head inquisitively. William furrowed his brow, his calculating brown eyes finally met the detective's.

"What could you need to know about Peter?" He asked, an almost accusing tone in his voice. This was why he found teenagers hard to work with, they're either scared out of their wits or they're surprisingly cocky and moody.

"I need to know what kind of person he was. Was he obsessive over anything? Did he have enemies? If someone wanted to hurt him, and he knew it, you would too, right?" Because there's no secrets...?"

William flinched visibly, an irritation in his features. There seemed to be something picking at his head, as if Jack had brought up something that rang a bell.

"Well, yeah. He really liked photography. I always begged for him to show me his pictures, but that only made him more insecure about it. He has... Had... A bunch of different portfolios in his room of his work. There was something about those portfolios that kept him busy. He was kind of..." He paused, recalling the question the detective had asked him previously. "Obsessed." William finished, a nostalgic way about his demeanor. The detective raised his eyebrows and hummed in interest. Kirkland scribbled "photography- check portfolios?" in his general notes about Peter.

"How many portfolios are we talking? Two or three?" Jack added. 

William shook his head a scoffed in a way that was comedic to him, but not to Jack. "No, try 30 or 40. He had a huge bookcase of them."

That shocked the detective even more. Out of all of the things he's heard about Peter, never once was this hobby mentioned.

"Was he open about photography?" 

"No, not at all. Only his closest friends knew. I think he was afraid of being made fun of. Why would a someone who had football scholarships out the ass want to do something like photography?" William began to speak more about Peter than the detective expected. "Does that matter?" He asked suddenly.

"It could. Anything factual about him is appreciated and would help no matter what in the long run." Jack replied, feeling as though he wanted to know more about peters photography interest. "What else do you know about Peter?"

William sat up slightly, clearing his throat.

"I caught him a couple of times taking pictures of people who didn't know he was photographing them. He called them candids and said they were his favorite. Something about the unsuspectingness of it all... It was like he enjoyed knowing they didn't know."

This information was very uncharacteristic of the Peter he had been informed of. Jack made a heavy note about this under the one about photography. 

"Didn't you think that was strange?" Jack asked, feeling slightly off about it himself.

He shrugged. "Kind of. Even after he told me, he still wouldn't show me his pictures. It was like he was trying to hide them." William, despite being his best friend, was surprisingly honest about Peter. It could help the case or not at all, that was something that sometimes happened when dealing with this. Not everything is important or useful. 

Even if it wasn't relevant to the case, it gave Jack a better idea of who Peter was in general and that he had been correct all along. He was secretive, maybe about more than photography. It picked at the detective's curiosity. He wished he was able to meet Peter before he was murdered, but that wasn't how Jacks job worked.

"You've been very helpful." The detective mentioned, a small smile on his face. "I appreciate it, I know it's very hard. Death isn't easy for anyone, especially younger people." He knew better than to call teenagers kids, they usually hated it. 

"I guess it just hasn't fully sunk in with me yet. I still hope he'll turn up at my house in the middle of the night and say that he ran away to explore during those three weeks he was missing." His eyes dropped to the ground, a moving sentiment in his voice and sadness etched in his expression. "Have... Have you seen him? Like his-er, body?"

Jack stared at William, the smallest smudge of hope deep in his orbs that watched the detective for an answer.

Clearing his throat, he nodded.

"Yeah. I saw him." Jack confirmed quietly.   
The light in him was dashed.

"Oh." Was all he said. Kirkland felt terrible, guilty beyond comprehension and he didn't even do anything wrong. There was nothing to his face, but you could hear the disappointment in his voice.

William left the office soon after, seeming to not be in a very good head space. Jack was worried about him, knowing firsthand what grief can do to a person. Especially younger people like teenagers. 

He sighed at the interaction with the kid. He was quiet and internal, but nothing Jack hadn't dealt with before. The detective rubbed his eyes tiredly, recalling the countless nights awake staring at case files until all the words blurred.

It was a good thing that he had no family or friends outside of the CPD, or he would have people left and right telling him that he worked too much and that it messed with his head. They wouldn't be wrong, but at this point in his career, he didn't need someone slowing him down. If he didn't stay up all hours of the night doing his work, cases wouldn't get solved and families would continue to wonder what happened to their missing or murdered loved ones. At first, Jack wasn't sure if he could handle the job. He woke up every night due to frantic night terrors and eventually began to pull all nighters to replace them. It wasn't healthy, but it seemed better than dreaming of the man who murdered his now late wife. That night replayed in his head every time he slept.

There was a knock on the door which pulled Jack out of his daydream. He jumped a little and closed his notebook.

The principal walked in and sat down.

"How'd it go? Did you get anything useful?" He asked the lift of his brow. Jack sighed.

"Anything can be useful if you use it correctly. But yeah, I suppose I got something that could lead somewhere." Kirkland replied, spinning his pen around his fingers. 

"Do you need anything else today?" He asked. Jack shook his head.

"No, I think I'm okay for the day. If I need anything else, I'll be in contact." Jack nodded, standing up from his chair and gathering his items.

As he was about to go through the hallway leading to the front door, he watched three boys scurry down the hallway in basketball uniforms. They seemed to be on their way to basketball practice, which is the same team that Peter had been on. Jack hummed to himself for a moment.

He began to follow the kids without any formative plan. As he entered the gym, he witnessed them doing jump shots one at a time. Floor polish assaulted his nose and sneaker squeaks met his eardrums. He watched for a little while, but grew bored. Glancing up at the stands, he saw a singular boy sitting high up, seemingly out of the way so as not to be noticed.

The boy, Josh, he learned, seemed like a very nervous kid. He was all over the place and didn't seem to like conversation, but Jack didn't detect anything seriously off about him. When asked about Peter, it felt like Josh knew more about him than he initially lead on. The detective was beyond curious of the boy, what he knew and what he was avoiding. When he returned to his car, he scribbled down Josh's name in his book with the others.

Peter was certainly a busy kid. A lot of people seemed to know him, but not really. Like they saw his face everyday and spoke words to him, but they didn't make sense.

Jack groaned when he realized that he was going to have to bother and beg for Peter's mother to allow him access to his room. Parents with kids who passed don't like to rearrange their rooms and definitely don't like strangers in them, which was understandable. It felt like an invasion of privacy and Jack knew this. He decided that talking to Mrs. Harris could wait until tomorrow, until after Jack submitted his report of new information to the CPD, which he drove to the department to do just that.


	7. Chapter 7

November 10th, 2005

With a deep, chest clenching gasp, Tyler awoke with a start. As his eyes snapped open to see a canopy of bare branches and evergreens, the sound of wind blowing through the trees met his ears and the feeling of his heart racing a mile a minute flushed adrenaline through his system. There seemed to be nothing but trees and brush around, until he sat up and turned around to see a tree house.

He didn't understand. Why was he in the woods? This was most definitely not the place he went to sleep in. Wasn't he supposed to be home? Was he dreaming? He looked down at his bare feet, cut up and dirty from walking through God knows what. Now that he realized it, his legs ached. Like the kind of ache you achieve from hours of walking, maybe even some running, too. But this made no sense to Tyler.

Did he sleep walk? What time was it? Countless questions cycled in his mind, one after another only pushing him further into confusion and fear. Gulping, Tyler pulled his sleeves over his hands as a chill ran down his spine from a sudden gust of wind. The looming tree house overhead made him stir awkwardly. He allowed his eyes to roam over the dark and decrepit wood that seemed to be starting to rot. Tyler didn't trust the structure as far as he could throw it. 

Shivers wracked his body, the November air way past the breaking point of the night. He swore his toes would turn blue. Tyler turned into a random direction and started along the trail. Using his arms to try and withhold heat in his body, the questions still didn't stop in his mind. There were so many. Where exactly was he? Why was he here in the first place and why doesn't he remember coming here? He had never sleep walked before, so why start now?

Eventually, the trail opened up to a field with a parking lot on the other side of it. As he kept walking, careful of where he as stepping, a rush of exhaustion hit him all at once. He stopped, a dizzy feeling smacking him with nausea.

"What the hell..." He muttered to himself in the mostly dark, increasingly tired of this night. There were a few street lamps lit up in the lot and going up the road. Once Tyler reached a road sign, he realized where he was and how to get home. The bad news is that it would take a good hour to do so.

Should he find a phone nearby and call his parents instead?

Yes.

Was he not going to do that out of fear of being seen as crazy and making his parents worry?

Yes again.

So, he started his journey home. School would be extra fun tomorrow. Today? Tyler had no idea. He was internally freaking out and trying to not to cry all at once. The walk home was long and agonizing, the thoughts in his head not making things any easier. He had to have left from his house, yet the front door was locked. The second choice was his bedroom window. He found it already open, which explained how he got out, kind of. If he did all of this to leave the house, why didn't he remember it? Could he really go out his window and across town in a form of sleep walking?

After Tyler had climbed in through his window, he noticed the wreckage that was his bedroom. Papers were strewn about, his desk clear of all his items which were scattered among the floor as if someone angrily swiped them off in a fit of rage. Tyler looked down at his hands, his fingers stumpy and ugly like always. Did he do this?

Tears pricked the backs of his eyes as he stared at the mess. Stuff was broken and he felt afraid of himself. Was this really his doing? After quietly checking on all of his siblings and his parents, who were all sound asleep at 3:37 in the morning, he came to the conclusion that it had to have been him.

Trying to push everything towards the back his mind, he began to clean up his bedroom. There was no sleep coming for him tonight, knowing he was going to have to get ready for school in a couple of hours. Once his room was in order again, he jumped into a shower the temperature just short of the inside of a volcano. Dirt swirled down the drain, leaving his feet red and raw from a mixture of abrasions and the hot water. He took deep breathes, leaning his hands on the shower wall, allowing the water to cover his head and face. Clenching his hands against the moist tile, he tried taking deep breaths, but the steam didn't feel all that great entering his lungs. If anything, it felt more suffocating than the feeling of his own, seemingly endless and bottomless thoughts.

Leaning his forehead against the tile and shutting his eyes, he wished he could just be empty. A flat affect would be greatly more appreciated than not being able to control his feeling of inadequacy. Surely, he was crazy if he was beginning to have black outs, right? The word crazy bounced back and forth between his inner walls.

It was the one thing he had hoped to avoid; actual, legitimate craziness. Tyler always knew he was off, he was weird from the beginnings of his personality. But he always knew he was at least sane. But now? Blackouts meant insanity, right?

Soon, once the bot water ran out and became cold, Tyler hopped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. Stopping in front of the mirror, he couldn't help but inspect every crevice, curve, scar and bruise. He'd noticed a concoction of bruises all over his stomach, sides and legs about three weeks ago, a day or two after the infamous party that ended in someone's death. They had begun to yellow with age like a newspaper and weren't as noticeable.

He didn't tell Josh, for fear of making him worry. Josh worried about more than you'd think, it was one of the things that attracted Tyler to Josh, sadly. He just knew that Josh was a constant thinker like him, and they were both stuck in their heads more than deemed healthy. If he had told Josh about the bruises he found, not to mention the ligature marks around his wrists that he found completely disturbing, Josh would freak out more than he does now. He'd hate doing that to his best friend. Ashamed of the obvious dark circles under his eyes and the way they just sagged sadly on his face, Tyler turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom. After getting dressed in some sweatpants and a tee shirt, he went down to the kitchen.

After putting on his coffee like every morning, he stood at the kitchen sink. His eyes wondered out the window, watching the birds wake up and fly from tree to tree as the sun began to cut through the night sky. The way he always looked at new days was simple; you have another chance to make yesterday better, don't screw up again. New days were like clean slates. You messed up yesterday? Make today better. But for some reason, Tyler didn't feel that optimism this morning.

He stared at the pink and yellow beginning to rise in the sky and felt like he was trapped in an endless loop of failure and self hatred. Every morning he watches the sun rise from the kitchen sink and he kept telling himself that one day, he'll feel good about starting every day anew. It was still not happening, and Tyler felt worse than he ever has standing in front of this window.

"Tyler?" A voice asked out of no where. It was his younger brother Zack, standing next to Tyler with his hand on his arm. He didn't realize it, but Tyler was gripping the edge of the counter top for dear life. Slowly, the color returned to his fingertips as he released his pressure.

"Uh, yeah, sorry." Tyler replied. Zack was up earlier than usual with his pajama pants still on and his hair sticking up every which way. "You okay?" He asked, brows furrowed and a bit of sleep still in his eyes.

"You look... Upset." Zack was probably the most quiet member of the Joseph family. He didn't speak too often, words not coming very easily to him. So when he did speak, Tyler knew it was probably important.

"I'm fine, just didn't sleep well last night." Tyler tried, but Zack was the only one besides Josh who could see right through him like cellophane.

"You're sure that's it?" Zack added, looking at him with an expression that meant he had never heard something so far from the truth.

"Yeah." Tyler said, trying to use as few words as possible. Zack sighed and walked away from him to get a box of cereal from the cupboard.

"You're my big brother, Ty. If somethings going on with you, you can tell me. You know that, right?" Zack said, pouring Wheaties into his bowl.

"I know, man. Trust me, I'm okay. Just... Trying to figure some things out." Tyler put off telling his family how he feels all the time. After doing some interesting research, Tyler had come up with the notion that he may be depressed. He had never said anything to his parents or siblings, mostly because he didn't want them to blow it out of proportion. Either they would make a big deal out of nothing, or worse, they would tell him he's just being silly or that it's that damn puberty again.

"Why don't you eat?" Zack wondered aloud. Tyler almost jumped at the sudden question. He wasn't sure, why didn't he eat.

"I'm not hungry in the morning." Tyler answered quickly.

"I never see you eat more than a couple of bites at dinner, though. If mom and dad weren't so insistent on family dinners every night, I don't think you'd eat at all." Zack muttered, seemingly far too talkative this morning. Tyler sighed again and rubbed his dry eyes.

"I eat, Zack." He said defensively. Zack shrugged.

"I'm not sure. You're looking pretty skinny." Tyler suddenly got very angry, his veins burning in his skin and his jaw clenched so tight his molars might break.

"Zack." Tyler said dangerously, the kind of tone that makes dogs sink into themselves when they've done something wrong. He was immediately tired of Zack's interrogating and wanted it to go no further. It was after this, his brother who was only concerned for his well being fell silent. Tyler hated urging Zack to be quiet when he grew suddenly social, but it was when he was too curious that Tyler didn't want to hear anymore. After drinking his coffee, the rest of his sleepy family came downstairs and the morning really began. Tyler wanted nothing to do with his family at this moment, knowing they would be far too in his face and loud for his liking. He returned upstairs to get ready to leave for school.

Instead of getting ready as he should, he collapsed onto his bed. He wished he could stay home today, feeling that his temper was on a short leash and after his amnesiac escapades last night, he knew he would crash in every single class. Sitting up as if his chest was filled with cement, he took off his most comfortable clothes and replaced them with a pair of khakis and his black, long sleeve button up. Staring at his slack and dead looking face in the mirror, Tyler tried to get his hair under control, but it was messier than he felt, which was awfully disorganized. His parents said goodbye to him out the door, which he ignored. Something about pretending that you're fine around your parents when you're completely not was soul sucking.

As he tread onward to school, a weight in his stomach. Tyler was considering telling Josh about his blackout, knowing full well that he would eventually grow tired of battling this himself. Josh was the only person he could trust.

He didn't see his best friend on the way to school, because he was already there. He sat under Tyler's locker with his face in a book and headphones covering his ears. As Tyler got closer to Josh, he recognized Green Day though them. The drummer noticed Tyler, taking his headphones off and radiating a smile that Tyler needed at this point in time. "Hey, Ty." He greeted, making Tyler smirk despite how low he felt today. The smile dropped from Josh's face and the light in his eyes weakened. "What's wrong?" Tyler knew he couldn't hide anything from his best friend.

"U-um, well..." Tyler frowned, sitting down next to Josh on the floor. Glancing around, no one seemed to be paying him any mind. "Well, I-I think somethings seriously wrong with me."

"I mean, yeah you are a weirdo but-"

"No, I mean. Seriously." Tyler tried again. "Like, the kind of wrong that I go to bed in my house and wake up in some random forest across town." Josh stared at him, his eyes widening in surprise and his mouth opening ajar.

"You what? Woke up in a forest?"

"Yes, a forest. A tree house was there and everything."

"Wait, that's Jefferson forest. That's where Peter was found." Josh revealed, smacking his arm in realization.

"Really?" Tyler asked, color draining from his face suddenly. It was as if someone had a hold on his lungs and were punching them repeatedly. That's really where they found Peter? Why did that make Tyler feel like he was in an enclosed space with walls closing in on him? For a moment, he literally became nauseated and had to hold his throat closed so as not to vomit.

"Don't think about that right now." Josh added, seeing the fear in Tyler's face. "How did you get there?"

"I-I don't know. I have no memory of going there or leaving the house. I would have written it off as sleep walking if I hadn't gone out my window and an hour across town, into a forest that I clearly don't know. Also, when I got back home, my room was trashed. I don't remember doing that either."

"Sleep walking can make someone do some strange things. Have you sleep walked before?" Josh wondered, running his fingers through the curly mess on his head. Tyler thought back, as hard as he could.

"No, I don't think so. My mom or dad have never mentioned it."

"It's usually something that starts when you're little. If you didn't then, I doubt you'd do it now..." Josh muttered, more educated on this type of stuff than Tyler.

"So, you think I blacked out?" Tyler asked. "That's comforting."

"It's the only other viable option." Josh replied carefully, the look in his eyes being one of empathy. "I assume this is the first time?"

"Well, yeah." Tyler replied. "I just don't get it."

"Maybe it's from stress?" Josh wondered. That made Tyler consider it. He had been under a lot of stress lately, considering.

"Maybe." Tyler droned off, getting lost in his head again.

"Tyler?" Josh said, bringing him back to the world he was living. "Don't let this dictate you. If there's something wrong with you, it can be fixed."

"You don't know that." Tyler replied with a crack breaking his words. Josh gulped, his throat dry and his eyes staring and calculating of his best friends expression.

"Hey." Josh said as seriously as he could. More formal than Tyler had ever seen Josh. He carefully placed his hand atop of Tyler's on the floor between their legs. "You're gonna be okay, Ty. You're strong, aren't you? I know you are." Tyler's eyes met Josh's dark and still pupils. The fact that Tyler couldn't tell himself what Josh was telling him, made Tyler feel even weaker. Yet, Josh knew him better than he knew himself and he knew that Tyler could get through anything. 

"As long as you're around, I should be okay." The oak haired boy responded after some careful contemplation. Tyler wanted to believe in his words wholeheartedly, but there was a form of an inkling in his stomach that he was so very wrong. He wished that people could heal others, but he also knew that depending on others as a form of happiness was beyond dangerous. Tyler reminded himself silently that it was entirely up to him if he could keep himself from turning certifiable. No amount of interference from Josh could change that.

And there he was again, conflicting what he said in his head.

"Come on, stop thinking about it and let's go to class." Josh begged, squeezing his hand one more time for reassurance before standing to his feet. Tyler stared at the worn out checkered Vans in front of him on the ground. Lord knew he got written up for those shoes every week, but he still wore them. Same goes for his hair and his wrist bands. He was called into the office about his unwillingness to conform ceremoniously, yet Josh still refused to cut his hair. Why did they continue to try? Their principal asks Josh continuously if he's figured out a "real person" job that he would be interested in, but Josh still just wants to play the drums. "The rockstar life can wait" Mr. Wilson would always say to him, yet it only fueled his drive to be different.

Tyler admired Josh's will to stick out physically, yet when it came to actually expressing himself, he cowered in fear of being judged. They went to class together, Tyler still thinking about every one of Josh's little ticks that made him happy. Josh smiled at Tyler from the side as they walked into class and sat next to each other.

When Tyler had begun to be friends with the punk kid who may have been popping pills, the rest of his "friends" shunned him as if Tyler caught some kind of disease from Josh. They were all athletic douche bags that only cared about looking cool, working out and getting girls. When Tyler found an unlikely friendship with Josh, none of his so called friends understood. They even went as far as to ask if Josh was his drug dealer and if Tyler had an addiction. Eventually, the smoothness and affection Tyler had begun to receive from Josh overshadowed the shitty and one sided friendship between him and his basketball team mates.

Freshman year was when he realized that, thanks to Josh, basketball didn't have to be his identity. He could play basketball, sure, or he could do something that excites him and makes him feel more alive than he had in years; music. There was always a part of him that enjoyed poetry. He figured it out in seventh grade English when they had begun to study famous poets. He grew to have quite the knack for words and vocabulary, which still stunned his basketball team into silence when he used larger words. 

"So, Friday?" Josh wondered aloud.

"Oh, crap. I forgot to ask." Tyler stared at him with wide and apologetic eyes. Josh only offered the brightest smile to smother his worries.

"It's okay. You seemed to have had a busy night." Josh replied, waving off his friends concerns. Tyler only nodded, not wanting to think about it.


	8. Chapter 8

November 11th, 2005~

The coffee machine beeped loudly to get the off duty detective's attention. He sat in the living room on his sofa, watching the sun slowly replace the moon in the sky. Lack of sleep made him yawn excessively. Jack pushed his dirty blond curls back for the umpteenth time, sighing to himself in the still silence of his home. The home he once shared, and now was as much of a reminder of everything he had lost as the pictures of her that were turned upside down. He reached for the pack of cigarettes on the windowsill, feeling the smooth cardboard on his fingertips. She always hated that he smoked, so evidently, he had cut back at one point.

That impulse control was out the window the minute she left this world. Just as the rule of no smoking in the house did, because he just dared someone to stop him.

After lighting another cancer stick, he stood to his sock clad feet and walked through the house that was far too dark to see. The coffee machine beeped one more time before he hit the stupid button to shut it off, like an alarm. Pouring his cup as he puffed on the cigarette, images of Anne coming downstairs after him wearing her usual furry pink robe and going for the mug with the cartoon dog on it flashed through his mind. Jack always prepared it how she liked, cream and sugar while he took his black. 

Sighing once more, he flushed his mind of all thoughts and images. Thinking of her this past year had gotten him nowhere except Miserable-ville and he wanted a one way ticket out.

Finishing his cigarette and coffee together at the window, he started getting his clothes ready for the day. Talking to the kids at Worthington was somewhat helpful to Jack's mental image of the late Peter Harris. They all had different points, yet Jack knew that none of them actually knew Peter all too well, they just like to think they did. Today, Jack was taking the time to go through these so called "portfolios" of Peter's. Hopefully, the mother would be easygoing about this, if not, he'd hate to shove that warrant in her face.

After dressing in a pair of dark grey dress pants, a black button down shirt, he stood staring at his mess of a reflection. He could see it, everyone had to, too. Everyone had to see how not okay he was, how lonely and locked in his own head he felt. His eyes were too blue, too watery and bloodshot. They stood out against his pale pallor all too heavily, the hollowness under his cheekbones outlining his skeleton like his problems. Feeling sick, he turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom.

Of course Jack smoked another cigarette on his way to the station, why not? He was already this far along into his journey of self-loathing, why not make it worse? As he entered the station, his coworkers seemed to notice he was of no mood, so collectively, they stayed away. All, but his boss.

"Kirkland?" He heard next to him, his eyes glued to the computer screen like inputting information about the Peter Harris case was the majority of what was going on in his life. Actually, it kind of was. Like most detectives, they're married to the job. Jack realized after Anne that life would be simpler if he just worked.

"Yes, Captain Lloyd?" Jack asked numbly as always.

"You alright? You look off today, I mean, more so than usual." Lloyd was right, the detective usually looked as if he spent his nights crying himself to sleep, but he hadn't. Not in a while, at least. He used to cry a lot thinking of her. Nowadays, he's lucky if he feels anything. Frankly, it was kind worrying at points. Sometimes he wished he could cry instead of endlessly staring at the white walls of the spare bedroom he slept in. The other room held too many memories as the first bedroom he and Anne shared.

"Did you need something, sir?" Jack cut deeply, as if trying to physically emanate an aura that said "don't fuck with me," but in a polite way because he needed his job.

He blinked for a second, then put his hands on his hips. "Ms. Harris called us back. She's allowing you access to her sons room."

Kirkland nodded, thankful that it wouldn't have to get legally ugly. "Thank's. I'll head over soon."

Lloyd looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead, he just shook his head in the slightest and walked away.  
Kirkland stopped typing long enough to rub his eyes tiredly. The sight of that damned ceiling fan was forever engraved in his consciousness, considering how often during the nights he stared at it instead of actually sleeping. His bosses recommended more time off work after his loss, but after a month, Jack was beside himself. It was like the normality of the job was what he needed. He needs the illusion of structure in his life when there basically was none at all.  
He stood up, shutting off the monitor on the computer and putting his jacket on. He decided that being cooped up at his desk wasn't going to help Peter any more than laying in bed in pity would help Jack.  
Once at the Harris house, he rang the door bell. The door was soon answered by the familiar woman in the midst of grieving for her dead son. She looked the same as the day he talked to her for the first time. Eyes red and raw from endless crying, chapped lips from the salt water constantly hitting them and unkempt hair. Jack knew her struggles all too well, but didn't say so.

'Ms. Harris." Jack nodded, trying for a small smile. She nodded, knowing she was about to let a complete stranger touch all of her sons things. "How're you doing?"

The mother simply shook her head, pulling the lapels of her sweater closer to her frail looking body.

"Not well, if I'm honest." She said, her voice clawing it's way out of her throat.

"Understandably." He said, taking off his shoes at the door. After allowing him access to her dark and dreary home, she invited him to follow her down the hallway to presumably Peter's bedroom. She paused at the white door.

"I haven't been in here since he..." She paused, placing her hand on the brass doorknob. A single tear ran done her cheek, making her take a deep breath as she turned the knob. Jack kept seeing himself in this grieving mother. Her hesitancy reminded the detective of the room he once shared that he could no longer sleep in.

"You don't have to come in if you don't want to, I'll try to be quick." Jack told her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She nodded slightly, watching his room come into view as the door swung open with an eerie squeak. Suddenly, unable to take the pain, she spun around and covered her eyes.

"Please, try to keep everything the way you found it." She mumbled, making her way towards the kitchen without another word.

"I'll try." Jack muttered as he entered the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. The room definitely was a teenage boys. There were clothes in the corner overflowing in a basket that smelled musty like dirty laundry. His bed was in disarray as if having been slept in, sheets wrinkled and blanket hanging off the side. Old bottles of water sat on his nightstand with a red clock that read 10:36 AM. Jack would look at a lot of things in here, but there was one thing in particular that he had come here to see; this so called portfolio collection.

Jacob had been right. Next to the desk was a book case filled with black binders, about thirty of them. Pulling out the first one, he sat in the desk chair and plopped it onto the table. Flipping it open, it was a bunch of self portraits. The lighting was beautifully composed, his profile one of darkness and perception. These pictures gave Jack a good idea as to how he felt. His eyes were extremely wide and almost lost in a sense. There seemed to be something off about Peter's expressions. They were void, maybe sinister looking in some. He was definitely a smoker, cigarettes an everlasting presence in his photos. They all lacked color, none of them looking particularly happy and were actually somewhat dark. They all lacked color, none of them looking particularly happy and were actually somewhat dark  
Jack stood up and started pulling at other binders. Some of them where breathtakingly beautiful scenes of sunrises, mountains and others of the like. Some were of his mother, she seemed very different from the grieving mom now. Here hair was luscious and her smile radiant. The detective was well aware of what death could do to people's conditions.

He soon realized that out of all the binders on the shelves, there was only one that wasn't black. There was a single white one, grabbing his attention. Trying to keep them organized for the mother's sake, he put the rest back and pulled out the white one. Opening it, he realized immediately why it was different from the rest. It was focused on one person and one person only. Some boy with short cropped brown hair that seemed to go to the same school. There was a single name written on the binder inside the front cover.

Tyler Joseph.

All of the pictures were black and white, all candid. some of the pictures featured a familiar face that stuck out to Jack. A boy he talked to at the school, his name might have been... Josh?

"Obsessed much?" Kirkland mumbled to himself in the silence as he looked at the multitudes of the pictures that nearly filled the whole book. Every single picture seemed to be taken without either of the boys consent. Some were taken at school, the two eating lunch together outside, in the hallway sitting against the wall having a chat. A page caught his attention through the fact that this Tyler kid was extremely upset. He was crying, standing on the edge of a parking garage. Josh stood by him, trying to reach for him. It was definitely a heart wrenching photo. But one that shouldn't have been taken. It was a intimate, saddening moment between two friends.

Peter chose to hide behind a camera rather than help.

At the end of the book was a couple of other plastic sheets as if waiting to be filled. Maybe, Peter was killed before he could.

An epiphany hit the detective like a truck. Where was Peter's camera?

It didn't seem to be in his room and they didn't find one in his car or on his body. So, where did it go?

Closing the binder with a snap, he stood and exited the bedroom. He had some obvious questions for the mother. There's a possibility that he could have talked to her about Tyler. No normal person has a binder of someone with candid pictures. Peter stalked these two boys.

"Ms. Harris?" He said to the woman reading the newspaper in the kitchen. She put it down, turning to look at the detective.

"Yes?"

"Do you recognize this boy?" He asked, opening the binder to show a picture of an unsuspecting kid. She stared for a moment, obviously thinking hard.

"Yes, that's his friend, Tyler. They were both on the same basketball team, what about him?"

"Were you aware that he had a whole book dedicated to Tyler?" Jack asked with raised eyebrows. She looked up at him with a confused expression.

"He never let me look through his binders, but, er, no. I had no idea." She said, with a long sigh. "What does this mean? Can't they just be good friends?"

"All of these are candid. Do you know what that is?" Kirkland questioned, using his detective voice. "They were all taken without any of the subjects consent. That's highly illegal."

"O-Oh." Was all she said, eyes wide. "That doesn't sound good." She began to rub her eyes tiredly.

"No, it's not. Has your son ever said anything you thought strange about Tyler? It almost seems like your son was obsessed with him." Kirkland asked, placing the binder on the counter and flipping the pages as if to jog some kind of memory. She stared at the photos, ones where Tyler was alone and depressed looking, ones where he was inconsolable as Josh tried to help him, ones where the two seemed to be enjoying each other's company immensely and smiling. It seemed the duo had their own problems between each other, the portfolio outlined it. But there was also a sense of trust between them. You could see it in their eyes when they looked at each other, there was admiration and possibly even love.

"He did tell me once that Tyler was his favorite person to photograph. I assumed Tyler allowed Peter to take photos, not like this..." She made a face at the photo of Tyler almost committing suicide. "Oh, lord. Peter, why...." She placed a finger on the picture as if she didn't believe it was actually there. It seemed not only did the people at school not know what kind of person Peter really was, his mother was in the dark as well.

"Where's your sons camera?" Jack asked, hoping there was some last photos of the night he died.

"I have no idea. I think I saw him with it before I left town that night."

Jack was willing to bet any money that whoever killed Peter also had his camera. Eyes sliding over to the binder of pictures, he analyzed every inch of Tyler Joseph's face. Jack's next step was talking to this boy. Maybe he had some information or insight on Peter as a person. Did he know of Peter's obsession? Question after question filtered through the detectives head.

It looked like he'd be taking another visit to Worthington.


	9. Chapter 9

~November 12th, 2005

Friday came around and Tyler had gotten his mom to say yes to allowing Josh to spend the night. She liked him, knowing every time she had met him he had been extremely polite and Tyler had never been in trouble with him before.

Josh stood outside against the brick school, staring at the clouds that gathered in the sky. As the wind picked up, the drummer smelled the rain in the air. It was always obvious when it was about to storm. Tyler pushed through the gym doors, making Josh jump a tad. He pushed away from the wall and licked his lower lip.

"Howdy partner." Tyler greeted with an amused smile, which his best friend returned, holding his arms closer to his body in an attempt to try and keep warm.

"Hi." Josh settled for, smiling happily and deliriously for hanging out with Tyler on a more personal level. He tried not to think about it, but Josh had definitely noticed Tyler's lack of participation lately. He had been withdrawn and it made Josh worried sometimes. He hoped Tyler wasn't spending those times alone, locked in his room in moments of self perpetuating mental violence.

"Ready to go to my house? It's freaking cold out here." Tyler complained, a seemingly good mood for someone of his state just two days ago. Josh had never seen his best friend in such a mixture of panic and confusion.

"Yeah, lead the way." Josh offered. Tyler only smirked at him as he hiked up his book bag and covered his messy, oak brown head with his hood. Josh pulled his beanie closer to his ears and hustled to get up next to Tyler with his breath smoking from his lips.

"So, any more problems with blackouts?" Josh asked carefully. Tyler hummed.

"No, not really. At least not since Wednesday." Tyler replied. Josh nodded, glad that nothing else had happened. The two walked in comfortable silence to Tyler's house, Josh's hand sometimes brushing Tyler's in between their hips. Neither said anything for fear of breaking the perfect silence despite the dead leaves rustling against the wind.

The way his feelings for his best friend bloomed over the past few months made Josh feel wrong. Sometimes he was stuck staring at his eyes and his lips and the way his jaw slopes into his neck. There was nothing Josh hadn't noticed about him. He wished that he didn't feel so estranged to have these feelings for his friend, but he knew Tyler wouldn't feel the same.

"Hey, Josh?"

"Y-yeah?" Josh replied too quickly, face glowing red and radiating heat like the sun. His heart was racing. Since when did Tyler make him nervous to the point of speechlessness? Sure, he may have been when they first met, but Josh had eventually found his confidence with Tyler.

"We spend a lot of time together, you know? We're basically joint at the hip. But what drives me absolutely bonkers, is that whenever you fall silent like that, I have no idea what you're thinking. Sometimes you look pained, sometimes confused. We're blood brothers, yet when you get in your head it's like I don't know who you are." Tyler sighed, leaving Josh to mull over his best friends words. Brothers, huh? He knew he could be fairly secretive and withdrawn, even with Ty. It wasn't on purpose, or due to lack of trust, it was mostly Josh's endless worry of being judged.

"You know who I am." Was all Josh said, the wind burning his skin and a small, emotionless smirk forming. "Don't try to turn yourself against me."

"I'm not, nor could I ever be against you. You could kill someone and I would probably defend you." Tyler replied, making Josh snicker.

"Well, ditto." He said, knowing it to be true. Tyler smiled, the specific smile he saved for Josh and the one he was never tired of.

One the two entered the Joseph household, they removed their shoes and went straight to Tyler's bedroom. Throwing both of their heavy book bags into the corner of the boring, beige room that would drive Josh mad. If he wasn't able to express himself in a bedroom with anything besides basketball trophies, Josh would surely act out more than he normally does.

"Have you ever thought of getting posters or something?" The curly headed drummer asked, staring at the black and brown striped bed set and the lack of color and personality the room gave off. Tyler glanced at Josh from behind himself as he opened his closet, pulling on the string and eliciting light from above.

"Why?" He asked, not seemingly getting the idea that Josh was putting out.

"I'm not sure, you're just such a creative person. It must get gloomy in here sometimes." He walked over to the window, staring at the large backyard of the house with the single oak tree in the dead center. Bare footsteps led away from the window in the slush and mud, a leaving pair and a pair coming to.

"Do you wanna borrow sweats?" Ty asked, knowing Josh didn't have clothes from his house. He never did. If he didn't have to go home to his parents, he wouldn't.

"Y-yeah, thanks... again." Josh mumbled, turning back around and eyeing the folded pair of black sweat pants and red Hanes sweater next to them. He hated borrowing clothes from his friend. It made him feel like a bum, but Tyler always insisted that he didn't mind at all.

"No problem. You can go ahead to the bathroom if you want. I'll change here." Tyler claimed, pulling out his own grey pair of pants and an old, beat up The Beatles tee-shirt. Josh screwed up his eyebrows in confusion, thinking of the many times they had changed together in the same room before. What changed Tyler's comfort level? As much as he hated to think about it, maybe Tyler had begun to recognize Josh's feelings and started to feel off around him? Josh didn't even care if Tyler didn't reciprocate, he just wished that they could move on, forget about it and continue to be friends.

"Er, alright." Josh replied, realizing he had just been standing there like an idiot. He picked up the clothes laid out for him with a shaking grip and walked out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom. After shutting the door and stripping off his school polo, he made the mistake of glancing in the mirror. His arms were like chicken bones, while his stomach resembled a ball pit with a blanket over it. Grimacing, he hoped to one day get an athletic routine. Once he had the money, maybe a gym membership was in order.

He pulled on the sweater, feeling as if he was enveloped in everything Tyler. The detergent mixed with Tyler's natural smell was endearing enough that Josh pulled the neck over his nose and sniffed a little. Cheeks burning, he felt slightly embarrassed despite being by himself. Quickly, he finished changing and picked up his clothes and exited the bathroom. On the way out, he almost ran into Zack in the middle of the hallway.

"Woah, sorry." Josh amended.

"I-It's fine." Zack replied awkwardly. Tyler and Zack were fairly close in age, about a year apart, Zack being the youngest of the two. He went to the same high school with the infamous duo, yet a grade lower than them. They hung out sometimes thanks to them being close in age. Josh appreciated Zack, knowing the kid was more soft spoken than Josh was, which quite frankly amazed him. Everyone got the wrong idea about some of the quiet kids. Sometimes others think they're ticking time bombs or, in Josh's case, a drug dealer. The idea was crazy to him, knowing he's never even done any drugs, nor seen them himself.

The two swerved around each other, Josh going back to Tyler's bedroom and Zack to his own. As Josh opened the door to his friends room, Tyler didn't notice Josh was back right away. As Josh got an eye full of yellowed bruises all over his torso, his mouth went slack. As Tyler turned around while putting on the tee-shirt, he made frantic eye contact with his best friend.

"Ty..." Josh started, not even knowing what to say. Where could he have possibly gotten those bruises was beyond even his thought process at this moment. They had to be older when considering the coloration of them. The night of October 15th came to mind, the party that neither Tyler or Josh remembered in the very least.

"Josh, close the door. Now." Tyler's voice was more commanding than he had ever heard before. Slowly, he let the door click shut, his heart beating faster.

"Wh-where the hell did you get those bruises?" Josh finally asked the question screaming in his head, making him dizzy and unable to comprehend that Tyler had been acting more strangely than usual.

First it was the party, that stupid mistake. There was nothing else to call it except that. A mistake. Peter Harris died that night, while Tyler and Josh had no memory of the night at all. They remembered showing up, then everything got extremely fuzzy. This lead Josh to believe they had to be involved with Peter Harris' death, but he hoped it didn't happen how it seemed. They couldn't have hurt him...

Then, it's a weird blackout that could have been caused by stress, but still, it's extremely abnormal. Now, these bruises and Tyler's attitude?

"I don't know." He replied, his eyes dull and face colorless. The way the veins in his neck and forehead protruded made him look something unlike himself. Josh gulped, pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his hands nervously while they became warm with a clammy feeling as chills ran down his back.

"Tyler?" Josh tried, stepping closer. "Hey, it's okay." As he slowly edged closer to Tyler, his best friend grew more visibly rigid by the second. Reaching forward with the utmost focus, Josh gripped his best friends hand. "It's okay..."

He felt Tyler tense his arm as Josh's calloused fingers found what felt like a scabbed over cut on his wrist.

"Don't." Tyler ground in his teeth, his eyes darkening significantly. Josh pulled up his sleeve to reveal one clean line going all the way around his wrist. Josh gasped at seeing it, making Tyler rip his hand away and spin around to face the window.

"Please talk to me. You know I'm on your side, always." Josh whispered into the still quietness of the room. "There's no other side for me to be on."

"There's nothing we can do." Tyler's voice seemed to have taken on a deeper tone, as if his cutesy voice that Josh had been so used to had left along with the easygoing attitude he usually seeped. Josh was ultimately scared at this point. His best friend didn't seem to be in this world right now.

"There's always options." Josh continued not to give up. "You talked about not knowing me earlier. Right now, I feel like I don't know you."

"Maybe you don't." He mumbled back quietly. Josh felt tears burning behind his eyelids. Who was this? Who was standing in front of him right now? Why was he saying these things to him, his best friend?

"Stop it." Josh found himself saying into the air in front of him. "Don't say stuff like that, how long have we been friends? Almost four years, right?" And that was just it; he had to be speaking to the air because Tyler didn't seem to hear him. Who he thought was his best friend stood in front of him, not moving a single muscle. It was as if he soul fled his body and left it hollow. Josh had never seen Tyler act so cold towards him and it hurt. It made his heart ache in a way he's never felt before and it made him feel a thousand miles away.

"How much do you really think you know?" Tyler's voice was dry and rough, as if sandpaper coated the walls of his throat. As the words bled from his mouth, Josh had to take a step back, as if the boy in front of him was a bomb. If he blew up, he'd massacre everyone in his wake with shrapnel.

"I know that your favorite color's red. I know you hate anything banana, because I do, too. I know that when you were five you were in a car accident with your mom and you were hospitalized for a month. You love poetry and are pretty damn good at it. You want to start a band to tell the world a story. Sometimes you think about killing yourself, but you don't, because your work here is not finished. You say all the time that you know we'll be friends for forever because everyone may hear you, but I'm the only one who listens. You remember saying that, don't you?" Josh had gotten to his wits end. They'd never had an argument before, nothing like this. Tyler's doubts were taking control of his logic.

Josh felt lost in a storm, a storm made from Tyler's everlasting self-deprecation. Yet, it was the quietest storm he'd ever seen. Tyler wasn't always this soft spoken, but it seemed words were a delicacy right now. His eyes were brooding, watching the wind whip through the bare branches of the oak trees edging the yard. There may not have been any outward signs of stress, but he was definitely alive with rage inside. It burrowed in his skin, consuming his soul inch by inch.

He turned his head enough to look at the distressed boy known as Josh with an air of ice reflecting off of his glare. Trusting him wasn't on the table right now. The only reason this boy was still around was because Tyler was deeply attached to him. If it wasn't for that, he'd cut all ties. The only person who could protect Tyler was himself.

"Do you really care?" He asked, the voice sounding throaty and harsh like the dry winds outside.

"Of course I do, why do you even have to ask? It's you and I versus everyone else, remember?" Josh whispered, stepping closer to Tyler. Eyes as calculating as a predator, the boy who's was a lot unlike himself watched Josh's every move, the pulsing in his neck and the way his chest rose and fell with every labored breath. It was easy to see that he was distressed. It made this boy who didn't seem like Tyler excited to know he had the upper hand. He could do anything to Josh right now, finally being able to see him from the outside of Tyler's mind.

Tyler thought of grabbing ahold of his wrists and pushing him onto the bed, or against the wall. His hands tightened at his sides, almost trying to hold himself back. As he was about to grab the boy who was far to close to for comfort, Tyler's mom called from the stairs.

He blinked, getting a head rush and feeling as if he had the wind knocked out of him. What had just happened? He went from getting dressed, to... what? It was almost like Tyler had some sort of time jump, or a mini black out. Josh had seen the bruises on his back and the cut marks around his wrists, but what had he said about them? Tyler couldn't remember for the life of him.

As Josh's head turned to look at Tyler instead of the door where he heard his friends mom, he noticed the change in the boys demeanor. He wasn't as harsh looking, instead, he looked incredibly confused.

"Yeah, mom?" He called back, his voice cracking as if someone had just punched him in the gut.

"Dinner!" She called, making Tyler close his eyes and sigh.

"Are you... okay?" Josh asked suddenly, off topic and completely stupid sounding, he thought.

"Yeah. I'm good." Tyler tried, but how was he supposed to convince anyone of anything that even he was unsure about?

Josh only nodded, feeling stomach acid climb his esophagus. He wasn't crazy, he knew what he saw. He knew there was painful looking bruises all over his best friend, and he'd almost completely hacked into a new personality right in front of him. That person who was in front of Josh was Tyler, he knew, but what was happening to him?


	10. Chapter 10

~November 15th, 2005~

Jack sat at the school, his legs tucked under a conference table and the end of a pen in his mouth. The white binder sat in front of him like a big exclamation point. Was he really about to show this thing to Tyler? Wouldn't he just panic? The detective rubbed his tired eyes, his bags growing more and more defined every passing, sleepless night. The boy deserved to know. Sure this book of photographs was a very personal thing, anyone would be concerned to know it exists.

Suddenly the door to the private conference room opened to show the one and only Tyler Joseph. Jack jumped to his feet and tried to look welcoming.

"Hello, Tyler." Jack said with a small grin. "My name is Jack Kirkland."

Tyler stared at the man with his big brown eyes. The boy was certainly rigid, cautious even.   
"Nice to meet you, I suppose." He sighed, crossing his arms over his basketball hoodie that seemed to be bigger and baggier on him than it once was. Jack foresaw himself in this boy. His eyes were on the same level as the detectives, tired and almost old looking. Yet, he knew this boy was only 17.

"Please, sit." He asked, pointedly to the chair across from the detectives. Jack took his seat and waited for Tyler to cooperate.

He lingered over to the seat and dropped into it. "What's this about?" He asked, pushing his sleeves over his hands to hide them. "I'm missing class."

"I'm investigating something that happened here recently in Columbus, the murder of a young man. You've heard, right?" He asked after hitting the record button on his little machine. Tyler stared at the tape recorder and bit his lip.

"Yes, of course." Tyler said, meeting eyes with the detective almost so suddenly it threw him off.

"How much did you know about Peter?" He asked, the four walls of the room making Tyler swallow and feel as though there wasn't enough space to breathe correctly.

"Not much. He didn't talk much to me, but always caught him staring. It's like he knew me yet I knew nothing about him. I wouldn't have even considered him a friend." He said breathlessly, chest tight.

"Did he ever scare you?" Jack asked on a whim, seeing the distracted way Tyler talked about Peter. It was almost as if he was trying too hard to seem calm and collected. But at this question, Tyler's head snapped upwards to meet the gaze of the detective. There was something about this kid that was far different from the other kids he had spoken to.

"Scare m-me?" Tyler asked confused, as if no one had ever even thought to ask. If Peter really was as obsessed with this kid as he made it seem, Tyler had to have noticed at some point, right? Just because he hadn't said anything about it didn't mean it didn't happen.

"Yeah. You know, has he ever said anything strange or made you feel uncomfortable?" Sure, most people had good opinions of Peter, but Tyler seemed to be one of the only ones who was hesitant to make him seem anything less than an angel.

"Uh, well..." Tyler glanced away from the table that separated the two, playing with the ends of his sleeves and biting his lower lip in concentration. "I thought, maybe, he had been, er..." Tyler choked on his words. "You're gonna think I'm crazy."

"I've been doing this job a long time, Tyler. You wouldn't believe half of the things I've seen, there's really nothing you can say that will shock me." The detective believed Tyler was on the edge of telling him that he had noticed Peter following him. He just needed an extra nudge.

The boy sighed and rubbed his face. Jack watched every mannerism and the way Tyler grew more and more exhausted looking as their conversation together went on. As young as he was, it was unsettling how old he looked. Maybe it was the pictures he'd seen in Peter's portfolio of the kid, seeing how much turmoil could come from such a frail boy. Not only did Jack see a lot of himself in Tyler, he saw how much he'd already given up on.

"I saw him around a lot. The first few times I thought it was no more than a coincidence, but I realized it wasn't. I felt like a I was being watched, and I think it was him." Tyler rubbed his hands up and down the tops of his thighs as he spoke. Jack only nodded.

"Did you ever confront him?" The detective asked, pulling the binder between them closer. Tyler sighed.

"Kind of. One day I was at school after hours getting some lay ups in. He came in out of no where and invited me to his party. I asked him if he was following me and he responded with something like... 'what if it wasn't you I'm following, don't be so selfish'. It was like he was trying to make me more concerned for Josh's safety than my own." Tyler admitted, remembering their conversation like it was yesterday.

"He invited you to the party? The one on the night of October 15th?" This peaked the detective's interest. Tyler barely blinked, just sighed again and leaned back in his chair.

"Yeah, he invited both me and Josh. We didn't go." It was the same story Josh gave Jack a few days prior, but could he really believe it? Jack drummed his fingers on the table as he stared at the portfolio.

"You were right about Peter following you. Actually seemed to be more than that, more of an obsession." He said, pushing the binder towards the kid. His unsure eyes went from the binder to the man in front of him. He didn't get a bad vibe from the officer, Tyler almost didn't think he was half bad.

But what was this? He reached forward and flipped open the cover. His name was printed inside it, in very even and neat handwriting. The first picture on the page was a picture of him sitting on the floor of the hallway near his locker, writing in a notebook with headphones on. Tyler's eyebrows furrowed. What the hell was this?

The next page held pictures of him with Josh, talking, leaning on each other, smiling like goofballs. The next few pages weren't so nice, pictures of Josh having a panic attack by himself in the bathroom. Tyler audibly gasped, staring at photos of his best friend ripping at his own hair in distress and crying uncontrollably. A warmth, a rush of indisputable anger took over his whole body. He only saw red.

"What the fuck is this?" Tyler spat, staring at the complete lack of privacy and empathy of these photographs. "Did Peter take these?" Tyler gripped his palms so tightly that his nails cut into his skin in crescent shapes.

"Yes, I found it in his room. It's a whole book of pictures of you two without you knowing of it." Jack started. He saw the sudden snap of rage in Tyler. The boy truly was a storm riddled with anxieties and different doubts, it was obvious as Jack witnessed the personality change.

Tyler cracked his knuckles in a way that made the detective jump in the slightest way. He reached forward again and turned the pages. Stopping on the picture that was burned in the detectives memory, Tyler sighed seeing the physical proof of the night he had been trying to forget about. When he was so close to ending it all, but Josh had found him before he could and he'd be damned if he haunted his best friend in such a way that left him awake at night.

"So he was there that night too, huh..." Tyler mumbled to himself, his eyes resting closed for a moment as if reliving that day.

"Are you suicidal, Tyler?" Jack asked before he could stop himself, but for some reason, he'd grown interested in the boy. He seemed so absolutely troubled which resounded well within the detective.

"Not at the moment." He replied with, almost too calmly. His eyes were once such a light brown, but now seemed much darker and almost a different shade. The color in his face fled and left him so pale he looked sick.

"Have you told your parents?"

Tyler scoffed.

"This isn't about me, right? We're talking about Peter." He said, licking his lip and running his fingers through his hair.

"Right." The detective replied loosely. "But, Peter had an obsession with you and it's pretty obvious. So, why did he like you so much?"

"You got me. I don't even like me." Tyler shrugged, with a sigh. The way this kid talked and looked, one day he really would die. Either of his own choice or he'll keel over from malnutrition. 

"Maybe that's why he liked you. Weak people look for other weak people to control and feel stronger." Jack replied, tilting his head inquisitively.

"That's an interesting perspective." Tyler said, squinting his eyes and leaning back in his chair. He bit his lower lip in contemplation. "I suppose he was a bit manipulative." Tyler admitted quietly. Without it meaning to, the memory of the time he turned his head while he was changing in the locker room after basketball practice to see Peter staring him down to the point that Tyler began to shake with fear surfaced. He thought about the times he would subtly knock into him at school as if to knock him off balance but also just to make sure Tyler never forgot that he was there.

"You don't think I hurt him, do you?" Tyler asked suddenly, glancing up from his lap to the detective. Jack took in the sound of the question, almost as if it sounded like Tyler himself didn't even know if he hurt Peter.

"I don't know. Maybe not." He shrugged. Tyler only nodded, knowing the calmer he looked, the less suspicious he was. "I do think you were at that party, though, which begs the question as to why you'd lie about being there..."

The boy couldn't help but gulp. He knew it would be weird if he had to explain that he had no memory of the night. Josh didn't either, so it couldn't have been Tyler's own insanity that cleared his head of the party that he really wished he'd never gone to. But the fact was that he did remember going, getting a drink shoved in his hand by someone he couldn't make out the face of, and then everything was void. Tyler faced the fact right then and there that he had to have been drugged, which only reinforced the dull ache in his head.

"I'm not lying." Tyler said evenly, trying his best to look at the detective in the eye. Keeping the message that he was only doing what was necessary to protect him and Josh, especially Josh, from anything harmful.

"Fine." Jack didn't believe him, but he needed physical proof. Maybe he'd pay a visit to Tyler and Josh's houses and speak with their parents. There was nothing he could say to Tyler right now, not in school and not without a guardian.

"Are we done?" Tyler asked, sighing and biting his lip once more.

"For now." Jack knew he'd be in contact with the Josephs and the Duns. He would soon ask if the kids were home that night, but that wasn't always the best way to figure out allibies , mostly due to how much time has passed in between the night of the party and the day Peter was found. But, Jack wasn't willing to give up whatever little of a lead this could be. He wasn't sure if Tyler could hurt someone, or even Josh. They seemed like genuine kids, yet he knew everyone had their layers.   
~  
Tyler left the meeting with the detective feeling unreal. He felt like he was living a fake world and a fake life with fake people. Everything was transparent right in front of him, yet for some reason he couldn't understand or make anything out. He was always finding ways to not believe the things that he should, and this could be one of those things.

He really didn't think he killed Peter, he didn't have the stomach for it. So, why did he feel like he had something to hide?

Retreating to the bathroom, Tyler paced a bit, his mind rotating a mile a minute. He stopped, glancing at his hellish figure in the mirror with a sneer. Everything about him was so off. His cheeks were sunken and eyes were dull like a rusted blade. The skin over his lips cracked with irritation and peeled from endless ripping. Was this boy with stubby, chewed up nails and a hunch really capable of coldly slicing someone in the back multiple times and then leaving them to die in cold blood with nothing but the earthworms for company?

Tyler began to running his hands through his hair that went every which way, pulling at the roots to bring some other kind of feeling other than dread. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see this life anymore. He didn't want to look at the dull blue tiles in that bathroom, nor did he want to look at himself.

A storm swelled inside this usually numb and empty vessel, forcing him to clench his hands so tightly he thought he'd break skin with what little nails he had. He was in deep shit and it was all his fault. He allowed Peter to get under his skin, he played into Peters game. Tyler went to the party, with some underlying of hope that he could behave as a normal teenager.

A certain curly headed boy with copper eyes popped into his head and he realized he really needed Josh. Whether it was his presence, his smell or the vibrato in his voice, everything about his best friend soothed his worries. Tyler left the bathroom, going back to class where Josh was sitting by himself in the back with his headphones on and reading a book. This boy was everything to Tyler, his only stability in this world. Seeing the way Josh lost himself in a good book was interesting, more interesting to Tyler than the books themselves.

He took the seat next to Josh and simply just leaned his head on his shoulder. Usually Tyler wasn't so affectionate at school, but he didn't care at this point.

"Hey, whats up?" Josh asked, the vibrations of his voice hitting Tyler's cheek. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Tyler answered simply. "Keep reading."

"Hum, okay then. " Josh chuckled a little, making Tyler smile. He couldn't help but be content around him. They stayed that way for the rest of English class. Once they left, Josh asked if Tyler had basketball practice.

"Yeah, I do." He sighed. "But I'm not going."

"What? Why?" Josh asked seriously, grabbing Tyler's wrist with confusion in his eyes.

"I don't want to." He shrugged, feeling far to out of it to play. "Skip it with me?"

"I mean... I guess. I'll always pick you." The drummer muttered, glancing up at Tyler's eyes. The other boy sighed, feeling eternally grateful by his best friends support.

The two left the school together, rain in the air once more in Columbus. They put their hoods up and walked side by side up the road, through the neighborhoods and to the park they liked to hang out at. Picking their respective swings next to each other, the duo didn't move, but just sat in silence. Tyler began to crack under the weight of it, feeling his demons stirring inside. He was going to explode.

"Josh." He said suddenly, feeling his eyes burn with tears.

"Hm?" He asked quietly.

"I'm terrified." The wind whipped around them, carrying the shaking boy's voice away. The swings that swayed, unoccupied, creaked ominously and created a sound to focus on.

"Of what?" Josh wondered

"I don't know. Myself?" Tyler acclaimed, confused at even his own answer.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his voice rough but nice. Josh never expected Tyler to open up so soon. Sometimes Tyler had these moments where everything gets to be too much and he isn't sure how he's supposed to deal. He bottled everything up until he did something drastic to release the tension, so what was Josh expecting to happen now?

"Josh... what if I really did hurt Peter? What if I did it and don't remember?" He was on the verge of crying, feeling his insides begging to be outside and the physical pressure heighten in his head.

"We both forgot that night. What if I did it?" Josh asked, staring straight at Tyler's shaking, paled hands gripping the chains of his swing as if his life depended on it.

"You'd never." Tyler said quietly, glancing to the side to see his best friend already looking at him. His cheeks were rosy, dusted with color from the dry and brutal November winds.

"I could." Josh countered with. "Who knows what I would do in a certain mind set? If you were in danger, I absolutely could kill someone for you. I would."

Tyler breathed deeply. The silence was so strong it was deafening. His ears rung with blood flow and it seemed the only thing loud enough for him to hear was his own heart beat.

"One of us killed him." Tyler concluded. "Maybe."

"Maybe." Josh replied, sighing largely to create a puff of his white breath in front of him.

"I talked to the detective working on the case today." Tyler said, his voice almost getting carried away in the gusts of air circulating them. "I think he suspects me."

"Why? He has no proof." The drummer's heart dropped into his stomach.

"Well." The other boy sighed, running his fingers through the short tuffts of oak hair on his head. "Apparently, Peter was obsessed with me." Josh tilted his head in confusion.

"Sure, he was kind of weird around you, actually he was in general, but why obsessed?"

"He had a whole binder filled with pictures he took of me, and you, without us knowing." Tyler dropped the bomb that hadn't left his thought process a single time that day. "He followed us. Stalked us."

Josh's eyes widened, staring at his friend as if he was on drugs.

"No, no way." Josh exclaimed. "Seriously?"

"I saw it, so yes, seriously." Tyler groaned and rubbed his eyes. This whole situation was just terrible, he didn't realize how bad it actually looked until he laid it all out in the open. "He was everywhere."

He thought of Peter as more of an entity at this point. All of the pictures he took... he basically documented their lives in the past two years through pictures. The two's struggles, their lives were just entertainment to him. Tyler recalled every moment in his life in the past couple years where Peter placed their issues in ink and he absolutely despised the idea of it.

"That's insane." Josh concluded, sounding as distressed as one could be in this situation. "If he tried to do something to us that night, like..."

"Drugging us?" Tyler added

"Yes, it could be considered self defense, right?" Josh asked, seemingly trying to grasp at straws here. His friend scoffed.

"There's no way anyone would believe that we just forgot everything that night. They'll think we're just trying to cover for ourselves." Tyler wasn't sure if he could even believe that. It seemed so convenient that it was fake. At this point, he could hardly even blame the detective.

Josh leaned against one of the chains of his swing and sighed. "Well this sucks."

"You said it." Tyler replied quietly, feeling backed into a corner. "I mean... innocent until proven guilty, right?"  
~


	11. Chapter 11

~November 15th, 2005~

As soon as Tyler left, the detective felt inspired. Jack had never seen such a mixture in a person before meeting this kid. He was angry and sad and also scared, but also looked like he couldn't give a shit. Jack definitely got something off about the boy, but had no grounds to make any accusations. He also believed he and Josh went to that party and something happened that neither of them wanted to get out. The two seemed closer than any best friends he'd ever seen at that age. The way that Tyler snapped at seeing those pictures of Josh was unexpected and almost highly uncharacteristic of a seemingly quiet kid like him. It's like something was constantly buried just under his surface that he was having a hard time keeping back.

Leaving the school, not really caring to stick around any longer, he decided to go back to the office. Jack needed to get some opinions and input some information into the system. Once there, he decided to go to forensics to see if they've found out anything else about Peter.

"Hey, what's going on?" Jack asked the leader of the forensics unit, Jasmine Perry. She was sitting at her desk with her lab coat on and her long blonde locks draped over her shoulders in a ponytail.

"Hey, kid. Nothing much, got some interesting things to show you." She said excitedly, her blue eyes glowing. She was a beautiful woman, but got far too excited about her job.

She printed something off and handed it to Jack over the desk. He sat down and began reading.  
"What's this?" He asked, not totally understanding.

She hummed. "Well, that is a toxicology screen for a substance I found on Peters finger tips."

Jack raised a brow. "Okay, what is it?"

"Rohypnol." She said after a drumroll which she terribly produced herself.

"The date rape drug." Jack muttered, his face contorting into one of utter fascination. What could he have used that for? "He drugged someone that night?"

This case was becoming a doozy. Every turn Jack took towards the case, something incredible just kept being discovered. For some reason, Jack wasn't surprised at the drug residue found on his hands. The Tyler kid kept coming to mind, which in all honesty, made sense.

"Thanks, Per. I think I'm close to solving this." Jack said suddenly, coming to an abrupt stand and exiting the room with her making noises of opposition as he never shared his thoughts on a case with her until he knew things for sure. Instead, the detective would go to his captain to see what he thought.

Jack sped up to his door and knocked three times. Lloyd called from inside the office, allowing entrance.

"Oh, Jack. How's the Peter Harris case?" Lloyd asked. Kirkland sighed, sitting down and rubbing his face. How was he going to tell him that Peter was a voyeur who thrived off seeing a certain person in emotional pain, maybe even physical pain?

"Not good but also not bad, as in I'm making progress." He passed, for effect of course. "Good thing you're sitting. So, Peter had a hobby. He liked photography very much, loved it. But there's a catch."

"Get on with it, kid."

"Alright, alright." Kirkland cleared his throat. "He was also seemingly obsessed with a boy from his school. He would follow him around and take pictures of him, filled a whole binder full." Jack dropped the binder he had brought with him on the desk to show what he was talking about. Captain Lloyd flipped through it.

"Hm." He muttered. "So, where does this tie in with his death?"

"I spoke with that kid today, Tyler Joseph." Jack stood and pointed to said boy in a picture where he was sitting on a rickety old swing set with Josh, talking with smiles on their faces. "He swears he wasn't at the party the night Peter died, but I believe he's lying. And he admitted that he and his friend, Josh Dun, were invited."

"So?" He didn't quit understand why Lloyd was the captain, he was pretty slow to understand things.

"So," The detective extended, "Perry did a toxicology test on a substance she found on Peters hands; Rohypnol. Under his nails and whatnot."

"You're saying Peer drugged someone?" Lloyd asked with a skewed expression.

"I believe." Jack sighed once more, fighting a head ache from lack of sleep no doubt. "I can infer that Peter drugged one or both of those kids that night and something happened to make said person or both kill Peter."

Lloyd hummed, taking in the theory. "We need more than that, we need evidence, a confession. How long does Rohypnol stay in systems? Talk to the parents, understand these kids to the bone. Get them tested, anything. Even if Peter did drug and assault these kids, we need to uncover the full case." Jack nodded, feeling the same.

"I just can't even begin to understand what's going on in Tyler's head, if he really did do this." Jack wondered aloud. The captain only scoffed.

"If he really killed this kid in self defense, he must be too scared to come forward." The captain pointed out.

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking." Jack said, but something obvious still bugged him about Peters death. "But, again, it looked like Peter was running from someone. If things got turned around in the attack and Tyler somehow got ahold of Peters knife, he had to have been chasing him through the woods to get the wounds found in his back. That wouldn't even be considered self defense, right?"

The other man in the room sighed, rubbing the facial hair on his chin in a thoughtful motion.

"It's hard to believe the kid I talked to could have even done this in the first place. Those stab wounds weren't out of fear or self defense, they were out of complete rage. No one stabs a person ten times in the back out of fear. Stabbing someone that many times takes way too much effort and energy." Jack pointed out, staring at the lion statuette on the desk.

"That's true. Get some information from the family, see if there's been anything off about Tyler in the past few weeks." Jack nodded, feeling uneasy. Tyler seemed to be quite obviously depressed, the way he reacted when asked about his family was expected. He brushed them off, not being totally abnormal for a teenager to react in such a way. There's usually a disconnect between teens going through mental changes and their parents.

 

He left the office and got the Joseph's family's number. He called and had the pleasure of speaking to Mrs. Joseph, who was more than willing to talk to the detective. They made plans to meet at the Joseph house tomorrow at five o'clock. Jack looked forward to seeing the family Tyler came from. For some reason, the more he thought about the kid, the more interesting he became. You could tell he was almost like a bunch of different people merged into one, which made him all the more confusing to figure out. He did look somewhat unaffected by this whole thing, until asked about how he was treated by Peter. It was almost like he was forced to think about how frightened by Peter he actually seemed to be.

~  
~November 16, 2005~

The next day, Jack had a boring day of paperwork until five when he was scheduled to meet Tyler's mom. Jack left the office at four thirty and knocked on her door by five oh five. She answered with a motherly grin and welcomed Jack inside. She had a glass of water waiting for him inside on the diving room table.

"How're you doing today, detective?" Kelly Joseph asked pleasantly, sitting in her own seat with a cup of hot tea.

"Okay, I'm okay. How about you, ma'am?" He asked, sipping the water graciously. The mother sighed.

"Ma'am makes me sound old." She complained with a twinkle in her eye. "But I'm also okay."

"Good, good." He sighed, feeling word vomit wanting to come out."I've come to talk about your son, if that's okay." He asked, getting straight to the point

"Which one?" Which one? Tyler had siblings, I see?

"Er, Tyler." She nodded quietly. "Is he home, by the way?"

"No, he out riding bikes with Josh. Is this about that Peter Harris boy?" She asked suddenly, making the detective nod.

"Yes, it is. The two knew each other, somewhat." Jack replied with sipping his water once more, leaning back in the wooden dining chair. There were pictures of her kids everywhere.

Jacks eyes settled on a framed photo of all of her three sons in a line on a beach with their tanned arms around each other. Tyler looked less than enthused, the sun in his eyes and making him look somewhat miserable. It seemed this kids possible depression dates back a bit, the detective knowing full well that being unhappy in good situations is a red flag for the mental illness.

"Tyler's never mentioned him." She replied.

"That's doesn't mean anything. With all due respect, teenagers are great secret keepers." Jack replied with ease, knowing exactly how he was at Tyler's age.

"Alright, so what does my son have to do with this boy?" She asked, sipping a steaming cup of tea. She seemed unsure how she was supposed to feel. "He didn't hurt this kid."

"I'm not so sure. Do you happen to recall what he was doing the night of Saturday October 15th to the early morning hours of Sunday October 16th?" Jack brought out his notebook that he took everywhere and a pen, ready to write her response. The mother stared at the man across from her with wide eyes, blinking in thought.

"I-I'm not quite sure. That was a month ago." Kelly pushed back her short blonde hair nervously. "I believe he was with Josh though. They spend almost every Saturday together." Jack wrote down that Tyler wasn't home.

"Is there anyone that would know for sure?" Jacks eyes moved to the stairs leading to the upper floor of their house. A human shadow moved along the wall, the boy seeming to be a younger looking version of Tyler. He assumed it was his brother, who was looking into the dining room rather sneakily. Kelly noticed the detective's stare and saw her other son.

"Zack, come here." She commanded in a motherly tone. He stood upright immediately and bounded down the stairs. Zack stood just outside the double doors to the landing, glancing inside at the detective warily. He smiled easily at the boy who seemed very shy.

"This is Detective Jack Kirkland, he's investigating Peter Harris's passing." She told him, with a grave face. "Did Tyler mention anything about a party recently?" She asked her younger son. He slowly walked into the room with his arms crossed, biting his lip, a habit seemingly passed from child to child in this family. 

"Erm, kind of." He sighed. "Is Tyler in trouble?" Zack asked, eyebrows raised at the detective. Jack still only offered a small grin.

"No, we only want to help him." Which was true. If that night had gone down in the way Jack thought it did, Tyler had to be in mental anguish. Jack wanted to help this kid before he did something to himself or someone else.

"I heard him and Josh talking the other night. Something about regretting going to some party. They weren't very specific." Zack replied, playing with his fingers. Jack knew it had to be the same party. 

"Thanks, son." Jack jotted the information he got from Zack down and nodded to the boy. Kelly told him to go back to his room and do homework. Reluctantly, he nodded and left the room.

"What does this mean? There were probably tons of kids at his party. Why are you so sure it was Tyler?" The mother asked hesitantly. Jack hadn't briefed her on the portfolio of candid photographs made by Peter, doing so could be relieving too much information, but he did need ground to find evidence at this point.

"Peter had a habit of following people and taking photo's of them without their consent or knowledge, and by people I mostly mean your son and Josh." Jack dropped the bombshell on Mrs. Joseph. Her face grew pale as an overcast of concern overcame her face. "He had a whole binder dedicated to Tyler and it seemed to be pretty important to him."

"That's... sick. This kid followed my son around with a camera and took pictures of him?" Kelly asked in utter shock, her eyebrows drawing together in the middle of her face. "Oh, my..." The mother stood up, and paced for a second.

"I believe that he may have tried something towards your son the night of his party and his death could be construed as self defense, but it's hard to say." Jack decided to leave out the traces of drugs on Peter's fingers, knowing it could be crossing a legal line. She glanced over to look at the detective with an unreadable expression.

"So, if my son did hurt this boy, and it was self defense, why would he lie?" She asked the question that was bothering the detective more than anything. He also didn't want to bring up the aggressive nature of Peter's death, knowing it would only upset her further.

"Have you ever noticed anything strange about Tyler, Mrs. Joseph?" Kirkland wondered with a curious gleam in his eyes. Kelly paused, putting her hands on her hips.

"Strange how, Mr. Kirkland?" 

"Like, withdrawn, maybe. Quiet, irritable, mood swings." Jack asked, tilting his head at the other pictures of the boys and a few of the one sister. 

"You mean like any other teenager?" She countered with. Jack sighed, thinking back to the obvious rampant moods Tyler went through while speaking with him. The photo he saw of Tyler on the edge of a parking garage came back to mind and the detective just felt he had to warn her in some way that Tyler was a ticking time bomb of self destruction.

"I think he may be severely depressed, but of course, you know your son better than I would." He said shortly before standing up. "Thank you for the information and the water, but I think I'll be taking my leave now. Call me if you think of anything else or if anything happens with Tyler." Jack mentioned while dropping his card on the table and going for the door. As he went to open it, it opened from the other side. It was Tyler who looked to be having quite the rough night. His eye's were sunken more than the last time they saw one another and Jack really took notice to the dull and soullessness behind his expression. Any parent who couldn't tell that he was quite obviously starving and going down hill fast, needed their eyes opened.

"Tyler." Jack greeted coolly, a small smile on his features. Tyler merely nodded, his hands hidden within the pockets of his sweatshirt. The boy had a certain air about him, one of ice and distance. Tyler was there but he seemed miles and miles away. The detective expected some kind of word exchange, but there was none. Tyler silently went into his house and for the stairs presumably to his bedroom. Jack let the front door shut, the echo of it bouncing off of the other houses in the neighborhood. Standing there for a second, he took a deep breath of winter air and started for his car. 

Maybe he would get take out Chinese food that night.

~


	12. Chapter 12

~November 17th, 2005~

Josh sat on the edge of his bed, his mind and heart equally going a mile a minute. He'd been doing some homework in hopes of distracting himself from the past few days events, but it was pointless. All he could think about was the way Tyler had been acting and the whole situation regarding Peter. It was as if the closer the detective got to solving the case, the more distanced Tyler had become. He'd barely spoken at school, all day just looking as if to be transcending a different universe; a universe Josh wasn't allowed to understand. 

His anxiety had started getting to him while trying to solve quadratic equations at his desk, though his parents talking about Josh in the next room over didn't help either. They hardly ever talked about anything else, him being the main concern of their lives. Even the other two kids of the family weren't as well versed about compared to the metal head among those who don't understand. Josh wished he didn't have to hide his favorite albums from his family under his bed, but he didn't trust that they wouldn't take them away. That scared the kid more than anything. The best way he pushed away the feelings of inadequacy and anxiety was through music, and he definitely wasn't going to get that from the "Christian alternative rock bands" that the parents tried their hardest to push onto him. Green Day and the Misfits did the job better than any other band out there, but his parents would never understand and Josh had come to accept that. 

Instead of drowning in his own skin, he stood and started pacing. It was as if his lungs had been replaced with balloons filled with sand. Every breath he took just wasn't enough to blow up his lungs, leading to short gasps instead of deep ones. Josh hated when he got this way and he hated himself even more. Knowing there was no controlling it at this point, he began grabbing at his hair with shaking, cold, bloodless fingers. Tears burned his eyes, but why? Why did he have to go through these episodes of utter fear lack of consciousness to this world? In moments like these, Josh lost whatever ground he had and felt unreal. Every thing felt makeshift and it was difficult to come back from that. Head swimming, as if he had just stood up so fast he'd left his brain somewhere else, he decided to exit his bedroom and go somewhere else. 

"Joshua, where are you going?" He heard his mother ask from up the stairs as he quickly sped down them as if something was biting at his ankles. He went to the coat rack and grabbed his jacket and slipped on his beat up checkered Vans. 

"Some where other than here." Josh was able to reply quietly, his anxiety hitting a low at the moment, but he knew it would come back full swing. His eyes fled back to his mom who stood at the top of the steps with a questioning glare. His mother wasn't exactly a cold figure, but she couldn't help but dislike the way Josh sometimes defied authority, like he had no direction. 

Laura cared about her son and knew he was as bright as could be for a kid his age, but he didn't want to put it to good use. He wanted to be in a band and travel the world, but that was far too impractical and she knew he would regret not doing anything with his whits as an adult with bills. 

"I'll be back." Josh claimed, his voice trembling out of his throat. As the door shut behind him with a slam and his moms voice calling his name being cut off at that, he grabbed the skateboard he hid in the bushes.

The cold air nipped at his pale skin, turning it an angry crimson. The temperature had already began to severely drop for the night while the silhouette of the moon rose in the sky. The sun may have already set behind the horizon, but it's light left the sky a mixture of dark blue and purple. Scatters of clouds above the drummers head caught his attention as he breathed in and out deeply, the only sounds around being the wheels of the skateboard against the pavement and someones dog barking in the distance. Pulling out his MP3 player that he had sneakily bought at the record store and filled with music with help from the owner, and a pair of earbuds that he bought along with it. He plugged in the earbuds and hit play on a Nirvana song to drown out his incessant and constant thoughts. 

Josh wasn't exactly sure where he was going, if he was even going anywhere. The neighborhood seemed quiet today, far too quiet to be comfortable. Going to Tyler's was an option, but with how he was acting at school throughout the day, he most likely wouldn't want to be with anyone. Josh was completely and utterly alone. No one else to talk to, no one to explain his thoughts that for sure would drive him to the brink of insanity, if he wasn't already there. He was so frustrated he could scream it out until his voice was hoarse, but he knew it wouldn't be enough.

It seemed the skateboard glided with it's own mind towards the park Tyler and him would sit at. Of course, this place held no meaning to Josh without his better half. But the cold air slapped him awake and helped cool down his rising body temp. There wasn't much to do here, but it was better than sitting in his house and suffocating.

Suddenly, Josh heard voices bouncing off of the nearby trees and the concrete. It was familiar voices, ones he'd definitely heard before. It was some kids from the basketball team at school, walking with their hoods up against the cold. The drummer sat still on the swing set, hoping to go unnoticed.

"Hey, is that that Josh kid from school? The one who worships the devil and sells pills?" One muttered just loud enough for said kid to hear. Sighing at the boys ignorance, he bit his lip to keep from saying anything and bounced his leg against the ground as a distraction.

"Yeah, it is. I don't understand why Tyler likes him. I bet they're fags." Another whispered, making Josh's chest ache. He could care less what people thought of him, but ultimately had issues when they talk about his best friend like that.

"Hey," Josh found himself saying, cheeks burning from embarrassment of their own free will. They all turned and looked at him with wide eyes as if they'd never heard his voice before. "Watch it." Was all he said, using what they thought he was against them. He gave a chilling glare, hoping he actually looked menacing instead of terrified. Josh was shaking and his heart raced at the attention he'd just dawned on himself. He'd gone through life so quiet, never bothering to correct the idiots at school who just loved to think they knew anything about him, or Tyler for that matter. 

"Or what?" One of the players countered, the group slowly coming over to the swings where Josh sat. He stood to his feet, trembling. He didn't say anything, looking at all of them around him. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was about to get "jumped".

Now that they were closer and easier to see, he realized one of them was Will Gunther, Peter's best friend. He looked worse for ware, dark circles under his eyes and a dull look on his face. Josh almost felt sorry for him, if it was the accusing glare casted from his expression.

Will stepped forward, making the first move by shoving Josh backwards into one of the poles of the swing set. The metal bar smacked his back so hard he knew it'd be bruised later. He hissed under his breath at the ache forming.

"Why'd you do it?" He asked, eyes narrowing as if Josh was the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen. A look of confusion spread across the other boys face.

"What're you talking about? Do what?" Josh asked, a cloud of his breath dissipating between the two. Will put one hand against the bar that was just to the right of Josh's head, bridging his arm so Josh couldn't turn anywhere. The basketball player brought his face far to close to the drummer for it to be comfortable.   
"You killed Peter." He said in a matter of fact tone, so sure of himself that he had no choice but to believe the words, no matter how crazy they sounded coming from someone's mouth.   
"Uh, no, I didn't." He replied with eyebrows scrunched inward. What the hell gave this guy the idea that Josh killed Peter? He may have wanted just anyone to blame, and Josh seemed to be the best candidate. Who would believe Josh over anyone else's word? "You're delusional." 

Will suddenly put his hand around Josh's neck, cutting off most of the air flow that was already disturbed to begin with. He pushed the kid against he swing set once more, fighting his grip so tight, Josh began to see black spot.

"Don't mess with me, you may have Tyler fooled but no one, and I mean no one, trusts you. We all know that you and Tyler left with Peter that night and he never came back. What else are we supposed to think?!" Will screamed, letting go of his grip and pushing Josh to the ground. He laid there coughing through his bruised windpipe, tears burning his eyes while the coldness and wetness of the ground seeped into his clothes, but he hardly cared.

"Peter was a piece of shit." Josh ground out, anger pushing his veins and making him say things that he'd never say regardless. "Sorry, not really." 

This pushed the other kids over. They started beating him, kicking his sides while he laid there covering his head with his arms as the kicks and insults kept coming. It was as if time had passed through a sieve, until they got bored and Josh was alone once more. 

Whole body aching, the drummer continued to lay flat on the ground, staring at the now dark sky. Feeling his nose bleeding down his cheeks and his tears mixing with such blood, he felt no need to clean himself. He felt like he was just one big bruise. As his crying became more intense and was accompanied by the usual bouts of an anxiety attack.  
He'd never felt so alone before. It was as if someone plugged the silence into an amplifier, which he didn't even know how to describe, because how do you describe something that doesn't physically exist?

He found himself in a full blown anxiety attack, one that he had been trying to avoid. His chest hurt from the inside from how rapid he was breathing, no matter how fast he took in gulps of air it wasn't enough. Hot tears burned down his icy skin as he began to cry as hard as possible, so hard he was whimpering in his own hands. He wished he could feel nothing, be nothing. Hugging himself, the cold numbed him to the bone. 

Josh begged to be told that everything would be okay and that the tough times would pass, but as expectedly, no one did. He was getting tired of being the one to tell himself these things, knowing he didn't believe it.

Sooner or later, Josh had to get up and walk himself home. When he sat up at the waist, a hiss escaped his teeth while continuing to hold back tears. The pain was unreal, absolutely everything hurt. He stood and began walking down the street. Reaching into his pocket to find his MP3 smashed to pieces, Josh launched it into the woods with a yell.   
This just wasn't his day. Skateboard under arm with blood drying under his running nose while the wind froze his face. He was soaked from lying on the ground, which made him shiver uncontrollably. Never did he feel so miserable, so low and unimportant. 

A car drove by, the first one of the night, but it stopped just ahead. Josh froze, staring at it. Of course it'd just be his luck to also get kidnapped in this situation as well.

The car reversed, stopping next to Josh. With wide eyes, he realized who it was. It was Jack Kirkland, the detective. He rolled down the passenger side window and took a good look at Josh. The detective realized it was him walking, limping, on the side of the road like he didn't care if someone were to hit him. 

"Hey, Josh, right?" He asked, staring at the blood that had come from the kids nose and the redness of his eyes in the full moonlight. He nodded. "Get in." Was all he said. Josh looked away, up the road and hesitated.

"You sure?" Josh asked, sniffling and wincing. His voice was strained as if he spent an hour sobbing. Jack nodded indefinitely. Unlocking the door, jack helped him climb in.

 

"What happened?" Jack asked in the silence, still not moving the car. Josh was silent, still as a stone. As Jack noticed he was shivering severely, he turned up the heat and pulled the blanket from the back and threw it around Josh's shoulders. Unwillingly, the boy relaxed into the blanket as heat wrapped itself around him. 

"Nothing." Josh tried, hoping maybe the detective would let it go. But he knew it wasn't going to be that easy, especially with Jacks strong sense of justice to help those in need.

"That's not nothing." Jack said quietly, pointing to the blood that stained the poor kids face. It contrasted highly with the almost translucence of Josh's skin. 

"Kids from school." The voice was so soft, like a feather. Jack nodded, recalling moments like this from his own youth. Kids could certainly be cruel.

"I'll take you to mine, get you cleaned up and warm, then I'll take you home. Sound good?" Jack decided after a moment of driving and thinking. The boy who was staring out the window, looked over at the detective and nodded, despite himself. He didn't exactly want to go home with blood on his face, so he agreed. "Your parents going to be worried?"  
Josh shrugged.

"Okay." He turned up the radio instead of trying to fill the silence with dreadful small talk. Josh thought this was a better choice instead, due to the nature of him not exactly feeling like a conversationalist at the time. 

Once pulled up at Jack Kirkland's house, Josh stepped out. It was a cute little cottage, blue with dark green shudders. It was dark inside, no other cars and the blinds pulled shut. It seemed Jack lived alone.

Jack unlocked the front door and allowed Josh entrance, turning on the light switch to the dining/living room. The place was eerily quiet, but clean. Josh took off his shoes at the front door mat along with Jack, outing a hand on the wall to steady himself.

"You can take a seat at the table there, I'll get some stuff to take care of..." He droned off, actually seeing the damage in good lighting. There was a cut on his forehead above his eyebrow that was bleeding a tad, a red mark on his cheek and of course the dried blood from his nose. There also seemed to be some bruises forming around his neck, like handprints. Taking in the red and swollen skin around his his bloodshot eyes and the way he bit the inside of his lip allowed the detective to understand how bad the kid had been through the wringer tonight. "Yeah." He ended, turning around to head to the bathroom for some bandages and towels.

After warming up some water in a bowl, he dunked a wash cloth in it and grabbed hydrogen peroxide to clean the wounds. Who knew what else he had going on that wasn't visible. Jack couldn't help but wear a grim look on his face for the kid. 

Coming out to see Josh with his head resting on the table made the detectives heart ache. He was so quiet, Jack half expected him to have left. Setting the things down on the table, the kid raised his head and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Want anything to drink? Tea, hot chocolate?" Jack asked crossing his arms across his white button down and red tie. Josh nodded slowly.

"Hot chocolate?" He said as a question, looking up at at Jack through his eyelashes. The detective nodded and went into the kitchen to make a tea for himself and hot chocolate for the boy. 

"You like marshmallows and whipped cream?" He asked, popping his head into the room. Josh nodded once more. The detective put whipped cream on it when it was done and a handful of mini marshmallows. 

After bringing it to the table, the kid took a long sip, licking the whipped cream from his upper lip.

"Thanks." He said, holding the cup in his hands for some kind of warmth.

"Turn around, let's get this blood off of your face." Jack said, taking the warmed up wash cloth and wringing out the excess water. Josh turned so he was looking at Jack, closing his eyes as the detective wiped the dry mess. The kids skin was pretty red underneath, bruising apparently in effect. "They really went for you, huh..." Jack mumbled.

"Yeah, guess they don't like me very much." Josh replied with a small sigh, cracking his knuckles in his lap. His pants were dirty and there was dried mud all over his skin, like they shoved him onto the ground.

"You could always press charges." The detective urged him, firming his lips into a line and dunking the washcloth back into the water, turning it a pale pink. Giving the older man a look that meant "seriously?" 

"No way. That's the last thing I need to deal with." He claimed, reaching up to rub one of his eyes. Jack expected this, nodding and deciding not to push. After cleaning him as best as possible, he found a bottle of Advil.

"Here, you probably need these." The detective told him, popping open the little white bottle and shaking three of the little pills out. "Why did they hurt you?"

Josh threw them into his mouth and took a sip of his hot chocolate, pulling them down his throat with ease. He thought about his words carefully. It wouldn't be wise to tell the detective in charge of the Peter Harris case that the kids who beat him thought that he killed Peter. But, also, he did remember that Will said that Tyler and Josh had left the party with him, but it was maddening that neither of them could recall those nights events.

"It was some kids from the basketball team and they saw me at the park and started talking about me and Tyler. I couldn't keep my mouth shut when they brought him up." Josh muttered what wasn't exactly a lie. It was how the fight started anyways. 

"Ah, I see. You and Tyler seem close." Cleaning up the things on the table, he sat down himself and leaned back with a tired sigh.

The drummer nodded. "We are."

"You'd probably do anything for each other." He commented raising a single eyebrow. Jack recalled all of the pictures where the two would be calming one another down. It seemed both of them may have and mental problems that needed working on.

Josh shrugged, suddenly feeling like he was being interrogated. Tyler told him before that this guy suspected that he killed Peter because of the binder of photo's he found. Josh was caught between wanting to ask about the photos, but also didn't really want to bring up the case. 

"I-I should probably be getting home, my parents must be wondering where I am."  Which wasn't a total lie. They probably had a ranting session about how tired they were of Josh leaving the house without permission or even telling them where he was going. Once they saw the bruising and the cut on his forehead, they'd be livid. They always told him that fighting was bad for his reputation, which sucked already as is. No matter if he told them that he didn't even hit back, they'd still call him out by association. 

"Sure, right. You are just a kid after all." Jack replied, getting up to retrieve his coat, shoes and car keys. The drummer took the time to stand up, careful of the blossoming concoction of bruises all over his body.

The ride to his house was quiet, besides the directions Josh told the driver to go. His voice was still croaky and jaw tense from the amount of anxiety faced with tonight. 

“This is it. Thanks.” Josh told him, Looking at him from the passenger seat as he parked packed the street. 

“You’re welcome. By the way, I greatly suggest telling your parents what happened.” Jack told him, with a nod. 

Josh only returned the nod and exited the car with his skateboard under arm. Before walking into the house, he paused with his hand on the door and took a long breath that extended his lungs to the greatest capacity. 

He wasn’t ready to be asked a million and one questions about his swelling face, he simply had no energy and wished only to sleep for at least ten hours. Josh opened the front door and walked into the house that felt more like a prison sometimes. It was quiet, besides the television playing some clean movie probably. He knew his parents would be curled up watching a movie with Ashley and Jordan would be in his room doing homework. 

As the door shut, he heard his mother call his name.

“Joshua?” Her voice echoed from the living room. He sighed, taking his shoes off and putting his coat on the coat rack. His mother came into the room began with the third degree. “Where have you been? You missed dinner and I bet you haven’t done your homework-“ she stopped, seeing how Josh looked in the light. Dirt all over his clothes and bruise forming on his face. He also stood slightly hunched. 

“Uh...” Josh began.

“What in Lords name happened to you?!” Laura asked, reaching forward to hold up is face to the light properly. He flinched, complaining under his breath.

“Some kids from school, it’s not a big deal please don’t make it one.” He pleaded with his brown eyes almost swimming. Tired, physically and of peoples prying eyes. 

“You have to tell the principal!” She chided, placing her motherly hands on her hips. Josh’s father came in at the commotion.

“Son...” He said, as if disappointed that josh may have caused a fight. 

“I-It wasn’t my fault!” He tried to defend, already on a high of emotions lately. Tears brimmed his eyes as he felt the familiar choking sensation.

“Well, you must have done something!” William chastised, throwing his hand in the air.

“I swear, they started talking about me and I told them to stop. That’s it.” He insisted that it wasn’t caused by anything other, but he knew the truth. He knew that his schoolmates thought of him as a cold blooded murderer and that made it even hard to go to school tomorrow. 

“Go to your room...” William demanded quietly, turning to go back into the living room. He glanced at his mom for help, but she just stared past Josh’s shoulder, as if not really looking at her son who was obviously hurting. Josh wanted so badly to sit in front of her and scream that he felt like an alien in his own body. 

He trudged up the stairs, ready for one depressing might alone with his constant and soul-eating string of thoughts.


	13. Chapter 13

~November 20th, 2005~

A stench so powerful it could only be described as retched slapped Tyler in the face. It hung in his nose, begging to be noticed and succeeding. Once his sight faded in like an old television, all he saw was bright orange as smoke dried out his eyes. He blinked once, twice, three times. He brought his hands up to his face to rub them, but stopped as the familiar smell clung to his hands as well.

Tyler stared at them, the ugly and nimble fingers had dirt under their nails as the pungent smell invaded his senses once more. He could only guess what the smell was because it was something he'd smelled many times before, but not like this. The red gas can at his feet confirmed his fears, that yes, there was gasoline on his hands and he didn't know why.

Glancing back up to the scene he'd been ignoring, his mouth fell open in shock. A structure as tall as a building was aflame, charcoal colored smoke billowing into the endless above. There was no sound, for the high pitched whine in his ears drowned everything else out. Every joint in Tyler's body tensed as he stared into the roaring fire that seemed so angry, so ablaze with anguish and memories that couldn't quite be understood. 

Sure, the kid was scared half out of his mind, but there was an even stronger part of him that wondered if this was for the best. The tree house, the place where Peter died, where Tyler... what? What happened to him here? Why did this tree house seem like a symbol of his pain? Sure, he should be terrified. But instead... he felt accomplished. Safer, almost.

This time, Tyler knew that the sirens were real and not in his head. They were close, so close he could already hear the voices of first respondents. He wondered how much time he spent standing and staring at the mess he had made, but didn't recall doing so. He knew he should move, he should run into the woods knowing he'd be arrested on the spot. Legs rooted to the ground, still shaking with no sign of stopping, he didn't stop staring at the fire that licked the sky. 

Officers and fire fighters fled into the clearing and stopped to look at Tyler, who didn't acknowledge them in the least.

"Hey, kid?" An officer said, slowly getting closer to the boy who was trembling so severely that you could hear his teeth chattering against each other. Eyes as wide as saucers moved to look at the officer, who was reaching for Tyler's bare wrist with the yellowed laceration from weeks prior. The officer wrapped his hand around his skin gently.

Suddenly, Tyler let out a scream that made his throat feel bloody and ripped himself away as if he had been badly burned. Images he didn't want to see or understand flashed in his head. Pictures of a smile he knew to be so damn creepy, a grip so tight around his wrists he knew they were bloody, bruised. A cackle that would forever haunt his mind so intensely that he'd always have full body shivers when thought about. 

He tumbled onto the ground as tears sprung to his eyes for unknown reasons and pushed himself away from everyone as fast as possible while hot tears burned trails down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, don't touch me, p-please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Tyler cried as his back hit a tree and he could go no further. Curled up in a ball, he cried so hard that his chest ached. "Please" and "I'm sorry" were coined phrases that were repeated over and over in the midst of his breakdown. As if something inside of him told him to leave the present moment, his consciousness began to recede into his head. Something wanted to relieve his pain, and at this moment, he'd do anything to allow that. Everything turned murky, dark and muffled. Voices faded out, the various smells and flashing lights dimmed into absolutely nothing. 

~

Jack watched the fan spin above his head, the only light being the moon illuminating his room through the one gap in the blinds. His mind wouldn't stop spinning along with the fan. He'd hit a low in the Peter Harris case, not really sure of where to go from where he was. Jack was fairly certain that Tyler was responsible for what happened the night of Peter's death, but he wasn't sure how to prove it or get the actual story.

A ringing sound startled the detective in his bed, making him groan quietly. Picking it up to see Captain Lloyd's contact on the screen, he answered.

"You better have something good to be calling me this late..." Jack complained as the line connected in his ear. Despite not exactly sleeping, he didn't like to be disrupted at night. 

"We just arrested that Tyler Joseph kid for arson." Was all he had to say before the detective dropped his phone and threw his blankets off of his bed in a hurry. He was dressed in five minutes and was out the door in ten. Arson? Really? 

Jack arrived at the station in a flurry, his stuff in his hands as he entered the building. Foot tapping on the floor of the elevator anxiously as he rose four floors, Captain Lloyd met him at the door. 

"What the hell happened?" Jack asked as they walked towards the interrogation rooms. What and why would Tyler burn something?

"First responders claim they got calls about a large fire in the middle of Jefferson forest. When they got there, they found Tyler in front of a tree house that was completely on fire. When an officer tried to get his attention to apprehend him, he completely lost it and started screaming and crying as if the officer tried to kill him or something." Jack listened to his superior as they wove around the hallways. The detected recalled the tree house spoken of, his brain hurting at the thought of trying to fit all of the pieces together. Maybe there was more wrong with Tyler than anyone initially thought. 

The two entered interrogation room number five. Jack paused at seeing Tyler slouched in a chair just beyond the two way mirror. His hands that had been cuffed together rested on the table, and he was awake. Or so Jack thought.

"He's been sitting like that since we were able to get the cuffs on him. He hasn't said anything and he won't look at anyone. I called his parents, they're on their way." Lloyd sighed, scratching his head. Tyler sat still as stone, staring at the mirror ahead without any actual acknowledgement in his eyes. If he wasn't quite obviously sitting up and breathing, he could easily be misconstrued as dead. 

"Where's the officer that tried to apprehend him?" Jack asked, hoping for a more detailed description of what had happened. Lloyd left the room and came back with an officer with the name "Jenkins" on his breast. 

"So, Jenkins." Jack read aloud. "Tell me everything that happened with this boy." 

"When we found him, he was just staring at the fire like he didn't give a shit that we just caught him in the act of arson. After I was able to get his attention by grabbing his wrist, he freaked out and started crying like I did something wrong. Just as suddenly as it started, he stopped and allowed us to take him to the station without trouble, but he hasn't said anything. He just keeps on with that blank look. It's kind of creepy if you ask me." Jenkins told the detective with a shrug and confused look. Jack nodded, looking back at Tyler in the window. 

The boy was so sickly pale, he thought he'd soon fall over. The bags under his eyes had grown grossly prominent in the days it had been since Jack had seen Tyler. More and more of his body seemed to wither away with the obvious mistreatment his body had been receiving. Jack turned to Lloyd.

"Get the stations child psychiatrist in here, I'll need her help." He said before entering the interrogation room. He stood on the other side of the door, looking at the frozen boy before him. 

"Tyler?" He tried, hoping to invoke some kind of reaction. He twitched slightly. "I'm going to take a seat, if that's okay with you." Jack told him, slowly seating himself across from the rigid boy. Jack looked into his eyes, which didn't really seem to be looking at anything in particular. It seemed as if he was in a completely different world. "I heard about what happened." Jack kept talking, knowing Tyler wasn't going to respond. "Did you burn down that tree house in Jefferson Forest?"

Jack was attempting not to sound accusatory. He didn't want to scare Tyler anymore than he probably already was. There was no sign of acknowledgment. He didn't really move, which was out of character for Tyler. Each time Jack had seen the boy, he was doing something. Biting his lip, bouncing his leg, twitching his head, blinking too much, chewing his nails. Tyler couldn't ever sit still and this was a strange time to see him so eerily still. 

"Tyler, you can talk to me. I know there's things I don't know, things you don't think I understand. I'll understand, kid, I'm not against you, no one is. We want to help you." Jack tried again. "I can tell you're suffering. You're not okay, and that is okay." 

"Is it?" Tyler suddenly mumbled. His voice was deeper than Jack remembered and his eyes looked almost red. Said eyes, which once seemed so distant, now locked onto Jack harshly. He swallowed nervously, never having feeling so uncomfortable around this kid before. Jack got this tingling sensation in his legs, a feeling he found he only got around terrifying criminals. He didn't understand the shift in his personality. Jack had never felt threatened just by Tyler's presence, until now.

"Yes, I believe so. You're allowed to not be okay." Jack told him, keeping his voice even. Tyler tilted his head to the side as if considering the words. "Why did you burn down the tree house?" 

Tyler rolled his head back to look at the detective with a rotten smile, a smile that didn't belong and a smile that didn't mean anything good. A chuckle escaped, a deep one that caused Jacks haunches to rise. 

"You're asking the wrong questions." Tyler tsked, finally replying after getting the satisfaction from the detective's reaction.

"Every question I have is neither right nor wrong, but necessary to figure out what happened to Peter Harris." Any gleam that may have been construed as amusement in the boy's expression disappeared at the mention of the name. 

"What happened to Peter Harris... was exactly what he deserved." Tyler said, a smile breaking out onto his face for no particular reason. Jack found this extremely horrid. Was Tyler admitting to killing Peter?

"Why did he deserve to be killed?" Jack asked, keeping his initial reaction of disapproval a secret. Tyler sighed, folding his hands together on the table. 

"Do you believe people are inherently good from birth, detective?" He asked, not answering Jack's question, but proposing his own. 

"As compared to someone who isn't? No, I don't. I believe humans are born with animalistic instincts and will forever inhibit those instincts. You do what you have to do to survive." Jack told him, watching the interest pass over the younger boys face. He hummed, a deep reverberating sound in his chest. 

"People are born with neither good or bad intentions. So, how do you think Peter turned out to be the way that he did?" Tyler wondered aloud, tapping a finger on his chin in a thoughtful manner.

"There's no way to know exactly what went on in Peter's head, or why he did the things that he did." Jack said. "Every person's mind is like a flower; none appear the same or require the same conditions."

"That's quite the analogy." Tyler laughed, a laugh that held no actual humor or emotion. It was hollow and sounded like sandpaper coming from the boy's mouth. His face returned to one of curiosity. "Do you think there are flowers that can flourish in darkness?"

Jack paused, wondering if Tyler was speaking of actual flowers or if they were continuing the analogy. He found that the boy seemed to be enjoying their conversation, like he was leading Jack into circles and playing with him along the way. 

"Possibly, but they wouldn't be healthy."

"Are you scared of the dark, detective?" Tyler asked. Jack wondered how much longer this string of questions would go, but he'd lie if he said he didn't like the verbal chase the student gave.

"I've faced some of the most dangerous criminals in Columbus. The dark pales in comparison." Jack laughed a little at the question. 

"The dark isn't really just that. It's so much more than what it sounds like. The dark can be anything. The dark could be physical, or maybe it's the constant feeling of inadequacy. Maybe the dark is every thought you use to tear yourself down. Maybe it's the doubts, the fear of failing something you tried your very best to succeed. It could be the corners of your mind that you ignore day in and day out until they're covered in cobwebs and dust so thick it makes you sneeze. The dark could be the silence, the quietness inside your own head that drives you to the point of screaming just so you have something to listen to. The dark can be everything you've always been too terrified to face." Tyler rambled, but kept Jack's gaze like a rabbit caught in a snare. 

"You're afraid of the dark, everyone is." He finished, offering a small smile in exchange for the heavy speech he just dropped. 

"I never knew you were so poetic, Tyler." Jack managed to reply, still mulling over the brilliance of his words. 

"Artistry and pain are two sides of the same coin, detective." Tyler said, tilting his head to the side once more. "Also, I'll let you in on a little secret." He snickered a little, as if severely enjoying this game that the detective wasn't in control of. "Tyler's not here at the moment."

The detective's eyebrows drew together in confusion. He was certainly talking to Tyler, but what did he mean by that?

"Oh? If you're not Tyler, then who are you?"

"I am the dark, and Tyler is terrified of me."

~


End file.
